I  a/  THE. 


yfUDEiI^ESJ 


0mh'/^  (AfT.fAHRAK 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 


PRESENTED  BY 

PROF.  CHARLES  A.  KOFOID  AND 

MRS.  PRUDENCE  W.  KOFOID 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2007  with  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/camplifeinwilderOOfarrrich 


Cake  axih  iTorcst  0erie0< 

By  Capt.  Charles  A.  J.  Farrar. 


A    RECORD  OF  SPORT  AND  ADVENTURE 
IN  THE 

WILDS  OF  MAINE, 

TO  BE   COMPLETED  IN  SIX  VOLUMES. 


16mo.    Illustrated.    Price,  $1.25  each. 


I.     EASTWARD   HO! 

Adventures  at  Rangeley    Lakes. 

II.    WILD    WOODS    LIFE; 

A  Trip  to  Parmachenee. 

III.  DOWN     THE     WEST     BRANCH; 

Camps  and  Tramps  around   Katahdin. 

IV.  UP  THE  NORTH   BRANCH; 

A  Summer's  Outing. 


CAMP    LIFE 


THE  WILDERNESS 


A  Tale  of  the  Richardson  Lakes 


TOift    C^irtg    Cllugtrationg 


DRAWN    BY    REED    AND    POOLS 


BY 

CAPT.  CHARLES  A.  J.  FARRAR 

Author  of  ^*  Androscoggin  Lakes  Illustrated,^*  "  Moosehead  Lake  and 

the  North  Maine   Wilderness  Illustrated,''*  '*  From  Lake  to 

Lake,"  "  The  Lake  and  Forest  Series," 

etc.,  etc. 


BOSTON 
LEE    AND    SHEPARD,    PUBLISHERS 

JAMAICA  PLAIN,   MASS. 

JAMAICA    PUBLISHING    COMPANY 

1890 


Copyright, 

1890, 

Chables  a.  J.  Fabrab. 


PREFACE   TO   THIRD   EDITION. 


The  second  edition  of  Camp  Life  in  the  Wilderness 
having  become  exhausted,  and  the  demand  for  the  book 
increasing,  a  third  edition  is  now  published,  and  twelve 
new  character  illustrations  have  been  added,  to  take  the 
place  of  landscape  views  in  the  former  editions. 

The  story  gives  the  haps  and  mishaps  of  a  party  of 
Boston  gentlemen  who  spent  a  summer  vacation  in  the 
Rangeley  Lake  Region,  and  is,  in  the  main,  true, 
although,  in  portraying  some  of  the  scenes  in  the  story, 
I  have  taken  the  usual  license  of  authors.  The  book  is 
well  calculated  to  while  away  a  leisure  hour,  and  fur- 
nishes a  good  deal  of  reliable  information  to  those  who 
think  of  visiting  the  lakes. 

Persons  who  visit  the  lakes  by  way  of  Andover,  now 
leave  the  Grand  Trunk  Railway  at  Bryant's  Pond,  and 
take  Tuttle's  stage  to  Andover,  the  stage  line  from 
Bethel  to  Andover  having  been  discontinued.  The 
Bethel  stage  now  runs  to  the  Lakeside  Hotel  in  Cam- 
bridge, N.H.,  at  the  foot  of  Lake  Umbagog. 

CHARLES  A.  J.  FARRAR. 

RocKviEW,  Jamaica  Plain,  May  1,  1890. 
(5) 


in 


co:n^tents 


OHAFTES  PAGB 

I.  — How  THE  Party  was  formed, 9 

II.  — On  the  Steamer  Jack  Bowker, 16 

III.  —  The  Wait  in  Portland, 29 

IV.  — From  Portland  to  Bethel  and  Andover, 41 

v.  — On  the  Lake  Road, 51 

VI.  — Up  the  Lake.— From  the  Arm  to  French's  Camp.  — A 

Meeting  with  Fellow-Voyagers, 73 

VII.  — Our  First  Meal  in  Camp.— "Where  is  my  Valise?"  .  .   84 
VIIL  —  A  Hunt  for  the  Missing  Valise.  — A  Mystery.  — Is  it 
A   Ghost  ?  —  The   Valise   found.  —  The   Return   to 

Camp. —  A  Dark  Landing, 90 

IX.  — Our  First  Night  in  the  Wilderness.— Shooting  Rab- 
bits.—A  Hearty  Breakfast.— Another  Start.— The 
Artist    takes    an    Impromptu    Bath. —  The    Upper 

Dam, —  "Camp  Jamaica," 97 

X.  — Camp  Life.  — Fish  and  Game.  — Tar  and  Oil.  — Around 

THE  Camp-Fire, 109 

XL  —Morning  Thoughts.— Lucky  Fishermen.— Neighborly 

Call.  — Tough  Night.— Camp  stormed  by  Midges,  .  .  114 
XII.  — Sunday  in  Camp.— New  Arrivals.- We  visit  Whitney's, 
AND  GO  A  Gumming.  — A  Ridiculous  Bear-Fight.— A 
Demoralized  Dog.  — Fresh  Meat  for  Supper,   ...  121 
XIII.  —  Camp-Singing.  —  Lake-Shore    Sleeping   Apartment.  — 

Thoughts  and  Fancies.— Visit  to  Richardson  Ponds,  133 
XIV.— A  Big  Fish.— Beating  up  Gamk.  —  A  Shot  at  a  Cari- 
bou.—A  Gun  that  shoots  at  both  Ends.  — We  bag 
THE  Game.— Back  to  Camp, 142 

6 


CONTENTS.  7 

XV.  —  A  Caribou  Supper.  —  River-Drivers.  —  «'  No  Whis- 
key."—A  Narrow  Escape.  — An  Experienced  Gun- 
ner.—Departure  OF  our  Neighbors, 151 

XVI.  — A  Day's  Sport.  — Lonely  Tramp.- Lost  in  the  For- 
est.—The  Wrong  Customer.— A  Cat-astrophe,  .  .161 
XVIL— Down  the  Lake.— Visit  Whitney's.— A  Swamped  Boat. 

The  "Farm."  — The  '•  Pathfinder."  — A  Wet  Tramp,  173 
XVIIL  — The  Richardson  Farm.  — Through  the  Water.  — The 

Middle  Dam  Camp.  — A  Good  Supper, 180 

XIX.  —  Lake    Umbagog.  —  Androscoggin    and    Magallowat 

Rivers.  — "Pulling  hard  against  the  Stream,"  .  ,187 
XX.  — A  Sell  on  the  Aktist.  — A  Wooden  Bear.  —  Reunion 

at  Smith's  Mill.  — At  Andover  House  once  more,  .  200 
XXI.  — The  First  Departure.— Excursion  to  Cataract  Brook,  209 
XXII.  — RoxBUBY  Pond. —  Caught  in  the  Rain.  — Last  Day  at 

Andover  —  Farewell.  — General  Information,  .  .21(J 


LIST  OP  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


PAGE 

Fbontispiece 1 

Trying  his  Luck 7 

Thb  Captain  and  the  Ministeb 24 

A  Queeb  Hogshead 40 

On  the  Road  to  Andoveb 48 

Andoveb  House,  Andoveb,  Me 50 

Devil's  Den,  Black  Brook,  Andover,  Me 56 

Silver  Ripple  Cascade,  Black  Beook 63 

Mt.  Sawyeb  and  Sluice  Dam,  Black  Bbook  Notch 67 

Natukal  Arch,  Lake  Road 72 

A  ♦'  Speckled  Beauty  " 83 

The  Net  Result 96 

The  Artist  catches  a  Duck 101 

A  Lumbebman's  Camp 106 

Cbossing  the  Cabby 108 

The  Lucky  Fishebmen 120 

Attacked  by  Midges , 121 

South-east  View  op  Lake  Molechunkamunk 130 

Camp  Bellevub,  Lake  Molechunkamunk 132 

A  Bbight  Spobtsman 158 

Camping  out  at  Uppeb  Dam t60 

Middle  Dam  and  Rapid  Riveb 172 

The  Swamped  Boat 179 

A  Dby  Path 183 

The  Bboken  Tholepin 186 

Tail-piece 206 

Middle  Dam  Camp 207 

Fish  versus  Dogs 213 

The  Flume,  Catabact  Bbook 217 

Andoveb,  Me.,  prom  Lake  Road 221 

(8) 


CAMP  LIFE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS, 


CHAPTER  I. 

HOW  THE   PARTY  WAS   FORMED. 

IT  is  quite  natural,  as  summer  approaches,  for 
people  to  begin  to  talk  and  plan  as  to  where 
they  shall  go,  what  they  shall  do,  what  friends  to 
include  in  the  party,  and  so  on. 

As  the  summer  of  1874  came  creeping  along,  I 
began  to  canvass  the  probabilities  of  my  taking  a 
vacation,  and  in  what  quarter  of  New  England  to 
spend  it,  for  the  question  of  "  stamps "  would  not 
allow  me  to  go  more  than  a  thousand  miles  from 
the  "  Hub."  The  more  I  thought  of  getting  out 
of  the  harness  for  a  while,  the  more  determined  1 
became  to  shake  off  from  my  feet  the  dust  of  the 
city,  for  a  few  weeks  at  least. 

The  numerous  new  summer  resorts  that  are  con- 
tinually coming  to  the  front,  really  make  it  a  hard 

9 


10  CAMP   LIFE   IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

thiug,  for  one  who  has  no  special  preference,  to  de- 
cide where  to  go  f  for  the  poorest  of  them,  of  course, 
has  its  own  peculiar  charms,  and  will  always  find 
some  one  to  sing  its  praise. 

So  far  as  I  was  personally  concerned,  I  wished  to 
go  where  I  could  have  the  best  time  for  the  least 
money;  and  I  believe  a  large  proportion  of  the 
people  in  this  world  feel  the  same  way,  although 
they  may  not  care  to  own  it. 

After  turning  the  matter  over  in  my  mind  for  a 
while,  I  concluded  that  I  could  do  no  better  than 
to  go  down  to  the  Richardson  Lakes,  the  two  pearls 
of  the  Rangeley  chain,  situated  in  the  wilderness  of 
northwestern  Maine  ;  for  I  knew  if  I  went  there,  I 
was  sure  of  a  good  time,  and  plenty  of  healthful 
recreation. 

Having  decided  as  to  what  point  of  the  compass 
to  direct  my  steps,  the  next  question  was,  who  to 
get  to  accompany  me.  One  man  on  a  "  camping- 
out  *'  excursion  is  not  enough  of  a  good  thing. 

I  ran  rapidly  over  in  my  mind  a  list  of  my  ac- 
quaintance who  had  a  penchant  for  throwing  a  fly, 
or  running  their  eye  along  a  gun-barrel,  and  men- 
tally made  note  of  about  thirty,  most  of  whom  at 
convenient  times  I  interviewed. 

While  all  received  the  idea  of  such  a  trip  with 
enthusiasm,  they  were  not  equally  all   decided   in 


HOW   THE   PARTY  WAS   FORMED.  11 

their  opinion  of  going ;  and  I  concluded  I  could 
count  on  about  fifteen.  But  as  the  time  for  start- 
ing arrived,  so  rapidly  did  the  ranks  decrease,  that 
I  began  to  think  I  slioiild  have  to  go  alone.  How- 
ever, seven  stuck  to  their  promise,  your  humble 
servant  making  the  eighth.  We  went,  and  had  a 
splendid  time,  as  I  think  you  will  allow  after  fol- 
lowing us  through  the  trip. 

The  most  difficult  matter  to  decide  was,  when 
to  go  and  how  long  to  stay ;  but  we  finally  agreed 
upon  the  last  two  weeks  in  July.  I  would  have 
preferred  waiting  until  the  1st  of  August  before 
starting;  but  as  most  of  my  friends  could  not  get 
away  in  August,  I  accommodated  myself  to  them. 

We  held  an  informal  meeting  on  Monday  even- 
ing, July  13th,  and  settled  all  the  details.  One  of  our 
party  (whom  I  shall  call  the  Governor)  and  myself 
had  concluded  to  take  our  wives  part  way  with  us, 
and  were  to  go  by  rail.  We  were  to  start  on  the 
following  Wednesday  morning,  while  the  rest  of  the 
party,  with  the  exception  of  my  brother,  had  deter- 
mined to  leave  Boston  the  next  evening  on  the  Port- 
land steamer,  meeting  us  at  the  Grand  Trunk  Depot, 
in  Portland,  Wednesday  noon.  My  brother  accom- 
panied the  Governor  and  myself. 

We  had  decided  to  go  by  the  way  of  Andover, 
that  route  being  the  cheapest,  easiest,  and  most  di- 


12  CAMP   LIFE   IN  THE   WILDERNESS. 

rect ;  and  the  estimated  expense  of  the  round  trip 
to  each  gentleman  was  twenty-five  dollars  —  an 
amount  that  we  found  to  be  correct  on  settling  up 
at  the  end  of  the  trip. 

I  accepted  th^  position  of  general  manager  for 
the  party,  and  purchased  the  following  stores :  Two 
dozen  cans  condensed  milk ;  one  pound  tea ;  six 
pounds  cofiee;  ten  pounds  white  granulated  sugar; 
seventy -five  pounds  pilot-bread  ;  one-quarter  pound 
pepper;  one  box  salt;  one  jar  pickles;  one  jar  catch- 
up; two  cans  beef  soup;  one  can  chicken  soup;  two 
bottles  Jamaica  ginger;  one  box  mustard;  one  bottle 
Halford  sauce  ;  six  pounds  soap ;  five  dozen  lemons  ; 
fifteen  pounds  ham;  ten  pounds  butter;  one  bushel 
potatoes ;  one  quart  vinegar ;  ten  pounds  Indian 
meal ;  twenty-five  pounds  salt  pork ;  four  boxes 
cigars ;  one  package  matches,  and  a  few  other  little 
articles.  Our  stores  went  by  boat  to  Portland,  and 
express  to  Bethel.  All  of  our  stores  held  out,  with 
the  exception  of  sugar  and  butter,  a  second  supply 
of  both  articles  being  obtained  from  the  Upper  Dam 
Camp.  Of  the  pilot-bread  we  had  some  twenty 
pounds  left. 

We  obtained  a  good  supply  of  fishing-tackle  from 
Bradford  &  Anthony,  and  were  indebted  to  Mr. 
Prouty,  a  gentlemanly  salesman  in  that  establish- 
ment, for  hints  in  regard  to  the  selection  of  flies. 


HOW  THE   PARTY  WAS   FORMED.  13 

Some  of  the  party,  who  thought  more  of  gunning 
than  fishing,  visited  the  store  of  Wm.  Read  &  Sons, 
where  they  procured  all  they  stood  in  need  of  in  the 
way  of  arms  and  ammunition. 

And  now  to  introduce  the  excursionists  to  my 
readers.  First  of  all,  was  the  Governor,  hale  and 
hearty,  and  one  of  the  most  genial  companions  it 
has  ever  been  the  writer's  good  luck  to  fall  in  with. 
Then  came  the  nice  young  man  of  the  party,  whom 
we  shall  designate  as  the  Artist,  and  who  did  some 
very  creditable  sketching,  for  an  amateur,  while  we 
were  away.  Third,  was  a  young  man  who  had  a  sur- 
prising faculty  for  forgetting  everything  that  he 
should  have  remembered,  and  whom  we  shall  call 
Professor,  on  account  of  some  of  the  profound  jokes 
with  which  he  sometimes  astonished  us.  We  could 
also  boast  of  a  musical  genius  in  the  party,  who  was 
known  among  us  as  Mozart.  Fifth  on  the  list  came 
the  untirin^g  philosopher,  who  always  took  the  world 
at  the  best,  and  will  figure  as  the  Farmer.  Next 
came  a  will-o'-the-wisp,  as  active  as  a  flea,  known  to 
some  of  us  as  the  Pathfinder,  a  sobriquet  that  stuck 
to  him  all  through  the  trip.  These,  with  my  brother, 
whom,  from  his  entire  lack  of  interest  in  fishing,  gun- 
ning, or  anything  else  that  appertains  to  sporting, 
we  sarcastically  dubbed  the  Sportsman,  and  my- 
self, who,  from  my  connection  with  the  press,  was 


14  CAMP  LIFE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

known  in  the  party  as  the  Scribbler,  completed  our 
number. 

A  tent  had  been  sent  with  our  stores,  to  serve  us 
as  a  shelter  when  we  reached  the  wilderness ;  and 
some  of  the  gentlemen,  who  proposed  sleeping  in 
the  open  air,  myself  among  the  number,  had  pur- 
chased hammocks. 

The  morning  of  the  15th  of  July  proved  as  pleas- 
ant as  we  could  wish,  the  only  drawback  being  the 
heat,  the  thermometer  during  the  day  rising  to  nine- 
ty-six degrees  in  the  shade.  The  Governor  and 
myself  had  concluded  to  take  our  wives  as  far  as 
Andover,  and  leave  them  there  at  the  hotel,  while 
we  pushed  on  to  the  woods,  and  captured  the  noble 
trout,  and  gave  battle  to  the  lively  midge. 

At  half-past  eight  we  left  the  Boston  and  Maine 
Depot  in  one  of  the  Company's  elegant  parlor-cars, 
and  steamed  rapidly  out  of  the  city.  I  think  that  I 
have  remarked  before  that  it  was  warm  ;  before  we 
had  ridden  five  miles  we  came  to  the  conclusion  that 
it  was  absolutely  hot.  The  beauty  of  the  scenery, 
however,  was  some  recompense  for  the  heat,  as  the 
country  looked  at  its  best,  and  an  ever- varying  pan- 
orama unrolled  before  our  gaze  as  we  swept  onward 
toward  the  Forest  City. 

About  eleven  o'clock  the  Governor  brought  forth 
a  basket  which  was  filled  with  sundry  good  things. 


HOW  THE   PARTY  WAS   FORMED.  15 

and  the  way  they  disappeared  was  a  caution  to  dys- 
peptics. While  assisting  at  the  feast,  I  felt  some- 
thing pressing  on  my  knee,  and  on  looking  down 
beheld  the  head  of  my  little  dog.  Spot,  who  was 
eying  me  very  wistfully,  and  who  intimated  by  a 
gentlemanly  wiggle  of  his  tail  that  he  was  interested 
in  the  proceedings,  and  would  like  to  take  an  active 
part  in  them.  He  had  been  very  quietly  lying  at 
my  feet  since  the  train  left  Boston,  but  the  smell  of 
the  dainties  had  been  too  much  for  him,  and  he  had 
given  me  a  gentle  hint  that  he  should  like  to  be 
remembered.  His  mute  appeal  I  could  not  with- 
stand, and  he  shared  our  lunch. 

We  reached  Portland  on  time,  and  crossed  the  city 
to  the  Grand  Trunk  Depot.  We  found  the  Montreal 
train  in  waiting,  and  procured  seats  to  our  liking. 
Sportsman  started  off  to  look  up  the  rest  of  our 
party,  and  found  them  in  the  smoking-car,  playing 
euchre.  He"  returned,  accompanied  by  the  Farmer, 
who  reported  the  rest  of  the  gentlemen  well,  only 
longing  for  the  woods. 

At  quarter-past  one  the  train  started,  with  our 
party  all  on  board ;  and  here  I  will  leave  them,  to 
go  back  and  give  a  history  of  the  steamboat  trip. 


16  CAMP  LIFE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 


CHAPTER  II. 

ON  THE  STEAMER  JACK  BOWKER. 

I'^UESDAY  evening,  July  14th,  a  party  of  six 
-  young  men  gathered  on  India  Wharf,  in  front 
of  the  steamer  Jack  Bowker,  and  from  the  peculiar 
manner  in  which  most  of  them  were  dressed  it 
was  quite  evident  to  even  a  casual  observer  that 
pleasure  and  not  business  called  them  from  the  city, 
on  that  balmy  summer  evening. 

As  the  last  bell  sounded,  sending  forth  its  warning 
for  all  on  board  the  steamer  to  leave  who  were  not 
passengers,  and  for  those  who  were  on  the  wharf 
that  were  going,  to  look  alive,  five  of  the  young  men 
above  alluded  to  made  a  rush  for  the  boat,  upsetting 
an  old  applewoman,  who  blessed  them  in  pure  Celtic, 
and  a  yellow-haired  dog  with  a  kink  in  his  tail,  who 
showed  his  disgust  of  such  a  performance  by  snap- 
ping at  the  heels  of  one  of  the  party,  but  without 
doing  any  harm. 

After  going  on  board  the  boat,  the  five  made  their 


ON  THE  STEAMER   JACK   BOWKER.  17 

way  to  the  upper  deck,  and  thence  to  the  stern  of 
the  steamer,  where  they  could  see  their  companion 
on  the  wharf,  who  was  patiently  awaiting  their  re- 
appearance. 

*^  We'll  see  you  in  Portland  to-morrow,  if  the  boat 
don't  sink  during  the  night,"  sang  out  the  Artist. 

"  All  right  I "  answered  the  gentleman  on  the 
wharf.  "Don't  smoke  too  many  cheap  cigars  and 
drink  too  much  lager,  fellows,  while  you  are  loafing 
in  Portland  to-morrow  forenoon." 

"  We  never  drink  beer,"  replied  the  Farmer,  with 
comic  solemnity. 

"  Except  when  we're  asked,"  added  the  Professor. 

"  Did  you  order  a  coffin  before  you  bought  your 
ticket,  Mozart,"  yelled  the  Sportsman,  as  the  fasts 
were  cast  off,  and  the  boat  began  to  leave  her 
moorings. 

"  Yes,  two  of  them,"  returned  Mozart ;  "  I  did  not 
want  to  leave  the  Farmer  unprovided  for." 

"  Au  revoivj^^  called  out  the  Artist,  as  the  boat 
cleared  the  wharf. 

'^  Bon  voyage^  Messieurs/^  replied  the  Sportsman, 
as  he  turned  and  strolled  up  the  wharf. 

It  is  needless,  peihaps,  to  say,  that  the  five  young 

gentlemen   on    the    steamer   were    the    Artist,   the 

Farmer,  Mozart,  the  Pathfinder,  and  the  Professor, 

who  preferred  going  to  Portland  by  boat,  and  who 

2 


18  CAMP  LIFE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

were  to  meet  the  Governor,  Sportsman,  and  myself 
at  the  Grand  Trunk  Depot  in  Portland  the  next 
day. 

As  the  gentlemen  turned  away  from  the  rail  of  the 
boat,  across  which  they  had  been  talking  to  Andrew, 
a  nervous-looking  old  lady  touched  the  Artist  on  the 
arm,  and  asked  him  if  he  thought  there  was  really 
any  danger  of  an  accident  that  night. 

She  had  been  listening  to  the  talk  of  the  young 
men,  taking  it  all  in  earnest,  and  the  remarks  about 
the  "  boat  sinking,"  and  "  coflSns,"  had  affected  her 
rather  unpleasantly. 

"  Well,  the  fact  is,  my  dear  madam,"  replied  the 
Artist,  with  a  grave  look,  "  that  remains  to  be  seen. 
You  see  the  machinery  on  this  boat  is  not  so  heavy 
as  it  should  be  for  her  tonnage,  and  if  the  walking- 
beam  of  the  engine  should  come  in  contact  with  the 
piston-rod  while  the  thermometer  stood  at  sixty  de- 
grees, and  the  cylindrical  vacuum  of  the  horizontal 
tubular  boilers  should  waltz  with  the  steam-gauge 
around  the  fire-box  doors,  and  should  then  acquire  a 
leverage  of  any  extra  pressure  from  the  barometer, 
the  hydraulic  force-pump  might  fail  to  throw  a  suffi- 
cient stream  of  water  to  generate  steam  enough  to 
cat  the  anchor  with,  and  in  that  case  I  should  not 
want  to  be  answerable  for  what  might  happen." 

*'  Law  sakes,  you  don't  say  !     Why,  what  a  lot  of 


ON  THE  STEAMER   JACK   BOWKER.  19 

laming  that  young  man  has  got/'  said  the  old  lady, 
turning  to  her  niece,  who  was  with  her. 

"  But  you  can  rest  assured,  madam/'  continued  the 
Artist,  "  that  I  shall  look  after  the  engineer  of  this 
boat,  and  see  that  he  does  his  duty.'' 

"  That's  right,  mister ;  don't  you  let  him  sink  us/' 
added  the  niece. 

A  snicker  from  the  Farmer,  followed  by  a  haw- 
haw  from  Mozart,  set  the  whole  party  into  a  roar, 
and  the  gentlemen  moved  off,  leaving  the  old  lady 
very  much  astonished,  as  she  had  not  been  able  to 
see  where  the  laugh  came  in. 

"  I  say,  gentlemen,  how  about  the  state-rooms  ?  " 
asked  the  Farmer. 

"  The  Professor  and  I,"  answered  the  Artist, 
"  have  both  engaged  a  state-room,  and  have  the  keys 
in  our  possession.  I  will  take  the  Pathfinder  in  with 
me,  as  there  are  two  berths,  and  you  or  Mozart  can 
go  in  with  tbe  Professor,  and  one  of  you  get  another 
state-room ;  or  three  of  you  can  bunk  together  if  you 
prefer  it." 

"  Mozart  and  the  Farmer  can  room  with  me,"  said 
the  Professor;  "there  is  plenty  of  room  for  three 
of  us." 

"  Do  you  snore  ?  "  asked  the  Farmer. 

"  No,"  replied  the  Professor ;  *'  but  Mozart  does ; 
you  can  hear  him  a  mile  off." 


20  CAMP  LIFE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

"  Well,  we'll  put  him  out  if  he  does.  That's  the 
kind  of  a  man  I  am,"  laughed  the  Farmer. 

The  question  of  sleeping  being  settled,  the  party 
went  out  on  the  forward  deck  to  have  a  smoke,  and 
enjoy  the  animated  scene  before  them. 

They  took  seats,  and  talked  of  various  things 
appertaining  to  the  trip,  w^atched  the  vessels  as  they 
bounded  gracefully  over  the  waves,  spun  ^'  salt 
yarns,"  and  had  a  good  time  generally,  until  the 
gong  sounded  for  supper,  when  they  arose  and  made 
their  way  to  the  table. 

Taking  seats,  they  attacked  the  eatables  in  a 
manner  that  spoke  well  for  the  cook's  skill  and 
their  appetites. 

''  How  many  nickels  for  this  supper  ? "  queried 
the  Professor. 

"'It  costs  us  fifty  cents  each,"  replied  the  Path- 
finder ;  '-  and  I'll  try  and  get  my  money's  worth." 

"  You  won't  have  to  try  very  hard,  the  way  you 
eat,"  said  the  Farmer ;  "  I  expect  you'll  cause  a 
famine  in  this  party  before  we  get  back." 

"  I  say,  fellows,  let's  try  and  have  some  fun  out 
of  this  supper.  Suppose  we  make  a  run  on  the 
victuals,  and  what  we  can't  eat  hide  under  the 
table  ?  " 

"  By  George,  Mozart,  I'm  in  for  that,"  assented 
the  Artist :  "  the  cold  tongue  is  all  gone  I     I'll  call 


ON  THE  STEAMER   JACK   BOWKER.  21 

for  some,  and  as  soon  as  we  dispose  of  that,  let  all 
take  turns  in  calling  for  a  plate." 

This  idea  was  carried  out,  and  one  waiter  was 
kept  trotting  all  the  time  for  tongue. 

"  That  darky  will  earn  his  wages  this  trip,"  said 
the  Professor. 

"  I  guess  he  will,"  acquiesced  the  Farmer,  who 
bad  just  sent  him  for  another  plate  of  tongue. 

After  a  dozen  trips  from  the  pantry  to  the  table, 
the  waiter  reported  the  tongue  all  gone. 

Then  he  was  ordered  to  bring  some  cold  corned 
beef,  which  he  did,  with  the  remark: 

"  'Pears  to  me  you  gemmen  are  awful  eaters." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Mozart,  "  we  can  eat  a  little  when 
we  try  hard." 

After  the  young  men  had  eaten  all  they  wanted, 
they  began  to  hide  the  food  under  the  table,  placing 
the  plates  upon  vacant  chairs  near  them,  and  pulling 
the  table-cloth,  which  hung  down  low  on  the  sides, 
over  the  victuals  to  hide  them.  Finally  the  steward 
began  to  "  smell  a  mice,"  and  came  to  the  table,  and 
wanted  to  know  what  they  were  trying  to  do, — 
telling  them  he  did  not  believe  they  had  eaten  half 
they  had  called  for. 

"  Of  course  we  haven't,"  said  the  Artist,  with  a 
sly  wink  at  his  companions.  "  You  see  that  empty 
seat  there,"  nodding  towards  one  directly  opposite ; 


22  CAMP  LIFE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

"  well,  Tom  Collins  has  just  left  it.  He  is  the  fellow 
who  has  been  doing  all  the  eating.  He's  the  biggest 
eater  in  Boston.  I  was  surprised  when  I  found  him 
at  the  table.  I  thought,  if  you  had  known  him  as 
well  as  we  do,  you  wouldn't  have  let  him  have  a 
seat  at  this  table  for  fifty  cents.  Nobody  will  feed 
him  in  Boston  except  on  the  European  plan.  Why, 
he  is  the  identical  fellow  who  ate  a  dozen  chickens 
and  a  turkey  at  the  Eevere  House  on  a  wager  last 
Christmas." 

**  Well,  he  won't  get  any  breakfast  on  board  this 
boat,"  replied  the  steward.  *'  I'll  look  out  for  him 
in  the  morning." 

After  this  the  party  adjourned  to  the  upper  deck, 
and  had  another'  smoke.  As  they  finished  their 
cigars,  Mozart  proposed  they  should  go  into  the 
saloon  and  have  a  game  of  euchre.  This  the  others 
readily  assented  to.  But  as  they  arose  to  go,  the 
Farmer  grsked  them  to  step  up  to  the  wheel-house 
with  him  first,  for  he  was  going  to  "  put  up  a  job  "  on 
the  captain.  When  they  reached  the  wheel-house, 
the  Farmer  stepped  up  to  the  window,  and  inquired 
if  the  captain  was  there. 

"Yes,  I  am  the  man.  What  do  you  want?" 
asked  a  blufi",  good-natured-looking  individual. 

"  Well,  I  came  up  to  tell  you  that  there's  a  man 
down  in  the  gentlemen's  cabin  who  says  you  are  a 


ON  THE   STEAMER  JACK   BOWKER.  23 

drunken  sot,  and  it  will  be  a  wonder  if  you  don't 
run  the  boat  on  shore  before  morning.  I  thought 
you  ought  to  know  he  was  talking  that  way." 

"  Yes,''  chimed  in  the  Artist,  who  saw  the  joke, 
"  and  he  says  you  have  no  more  idea  of  what  your 
duties  are  than  a  female  rooster." 

"  And,"  added  Mozart,  "  he  just  told  the  steward 
that  if  you  had  your  just  deserts,  you'd  be  in  state- 
prison  for  killing  a  man  in  Portland  last  summer." 

^*  What  a  confounded  pack  of  lies  I  "  roared  out 
the  astonished  captain.  "  Where  is  the  lying  scoun- 
drel? Take  me  to  him,  and  I'll  throw  him  over- 
board. Do  you  know  him  ?  "  yelled  the  oflScer,  who 
was  almost  beside  himself  with  rage. 

"  I  know  him,"  put  in  the  Professor ;  "  he's  a 
Boston  man,  and  his  name  is  Tom  Collins." 

"  I'll  Tom  Collins  him  !  "  shouted  the  captain, 
coming  out  of  the  wheel-house.  "  Show  me  the 
man,  gentlemen,  and  I'll  make  him  suffer  for  this." 

"  Certainly,  come  right  along,"  said  the  Farmer, 
tipping  a  wink  to  his  friends.  "  Give  him  fits  I  I 
would  —  that's  the  kind  of  a  man  I  am." 

"  I'd  thrash  him  out  of  his  boots,"  proposed 
Mozart. 

"  When  you  get  to  Portland,  have  him  arrested 
for  trying  to  cause  a  mutiny,  and  sue  him  for  defa- 
mation of  character,"  suggested  the  Pathfinder. 


24  CAMP  LIFE   IN   THE  WILDERNESS. 

The  party,  led  by  the  Farmer  and  the  captain, 
descended  to  the  gentlemen's  cabin.  Looking 
around,  the  Farmer  perceived  a  quiet,  inoffensive- 
looking  gentleman,  in  whose  face  he  recognized  the 
familiar  features  of  a  well-known  Boston  clergyman, 
sitting  by  the  table  reading.  Pointing  to  him,  the 
Farmer  exclaimed : 

"  That's  the  man,  captain  I     Pitch  into  him  !  " 

Then  all  the  jokers  made  themselves  scarce. 

The  captain  rushed  up  to  the  individual  who  was 
reading,  and  bawled  out : 

"  What  do  you  mean,  I  should  like  to  know,  by 
telling  such  yarns  about  me  to  these  gentlemen  ?  " 
giving  his  hand  a  wave  in  the  direction  where  he 
supposed  the  informers  stood. 

"  Yarns  !  I  don't  know  what  you  mean  1  I  see 
no  gentlemen,"  said  the  reader,  quietly  looking  up 
from  his  paper. 

"  Didn't  you  tell  these  gentlemen,"  —  and  the 
captain  turned  around,  and  found  to  his  astonish- 
ment that  all  the  fellows  had  vanished,  —  "didn't 
you  tell  some  young  fellows  that  I  was  a  drunken 
sot  ?  " 

"  Certainly  not,  sir  1 " 

"  And  that  I  would  run  this  boat  on  shore  before 
morning  ?  " 

"  Most  assuredly  not  1     I  don't  know  a  soul  on  the 


ON   THE   STEAMER   JACK   BOWKER.  25 

boat,  and  have  not  spoken  half  a  dozen  words  since 
the  steamer  left  the  wharf" 

"  Would  you  favor  me  with  your  name  ?  "  asked 
the  captain  in  a  little  more  gentle  tone,  as  the  idea 
came  into  his  head  that  he  had  been  sold. 

"  Certainl3^  The  Rev.  Theophilus  Burr.  There 
is  my  card,"  replied  the  gentleman,  drawing  one 
from  his  pocket  as  he  spoke. 

"  And  your  name  isn't  Tom  Collins  ?  "  queried  the 
captain,  who  felt  that  he  had  put  his  foot  in  it. 

"  Ha,  ha,  ha  1 "  laughed  the  clergyman ;  "  that  is 
the  joke,  is  it?  Why,  where  have  you  been  all 
summer  that  you  have  not  heard  of  that  before  ? 
Tom  Collins  Y — why,  he  has  been  the  bugbear  of 
Boston  for  twQ  months  1  Even  my  sacred  calling 
did  not  protect  me  from  that  sell.  I  was  called  up 
in  the  middle  of  the  night,  and  requested  to  visit  a 
dying  man  who  lived  in  a  street  nearly  two  miles 
from  my  house.  I  went  to  the  number  designated, 
and  found  it  to  be  a  small  house  occupied  by  only 
two  old  maid  sisters,  who  were  frightened  to  death 
by  the  racket  I  made  to  wake  somebody.  I  asked 
them  if  a  sick  man  was  there  by  the  name  of  Tom 
Collins,  and  they  told  me  I  couldn't  get  in  there  to 
steal,  and  they  began  shouting  *  police  I '  at  the  top 
of  their  voices.  It  is  perhaps  needless  to  say  that  I 
returned  home  without  seeing  any  sick  man.     The 


26  CAMP  LIFE   IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

next  day  I  met  one  of  my  congregation,  to  whom  I 
related  the  story,  and  he  informed  me  that  Tom 
Collins  did  not  exist,  and  that  hundreds  of  people 
were  being  sold  by  that  mythical  personage." 

"  Well,  those  young  scamps  had  better  keep 
clear  of  me,"  declared  the  captain,  with  a  laugh, 
for  the  minister's  story  had  brought  him  back  to 
good-nature  again,  "  and  I  hope  you  will  pardon 
the  rough   manner  in  which  I   addressed   you." 

"  Don't  mention  it,"  said  the  reverend  gentleman ; 
"  here  is  my  hand,  captain,  and  if  you  ever  hear 
of  Tom  Collins  again,  think  of  me." 

"That  I  shall,  and  of  the  rascals  that  sold 
me,"  replied  the  captain,  as  he  shook  hands  heartily 
with   the   minister,  and   left   the    cabin. 

As  he  started  up  the  stairs,  he  ran  plump  into  our 
friends,  who,  unseen  by  him,  had  noticed  all  that 
passed,  and  were  enjoying  the  success  of  their 
joke  hugely. 

"  Ah,  you  young  land-sharks,  so  you  dare  to 
play  your  tricks  on  me,  do  you?  Didn't  you 
know  you  were  thrusting  your  heads  into  the 
lion's  mouth?  But  to  show  you  that  I  bear  no 
malice,  I'll  give  you  one  of  the  best  cigars  you 
ever  smoked  in  your  lives,  all  around,  if  you 
will  all  promise  me  not  to  say  a  word  about  this 
until  after  you  leave  the  boat." 


ON   THE   STEAMER   JACK    BOWKEB.  27 

The  gentlemen  readily  promised,  and  they  all 
adjourned  to  the  captain's  cabin,  where  he  set  out 
a  box  of  fine  Regalias,  and  the  jokers  spent  a  very 
pleasant  hour  with  him.  After  leaving  the  captain, 
they  concluded  to  turn  in. 

The  Artist  and  the  Pathfinder  went  to  their  state- 
room, and  the  Professor,  the  Farmer,  and  Mozart 
to  the  one  they  were  to  occupy,  after  cautioning 
each  other  to  get  up  early. 

"  What  number  did  you  say  it  was,  Professor  ?  " 
asked  Mozart. 

"  Sixty-one,"  —  looking  at  his  ke}''  as  he  spoke. 

"  That's  farther  aft,"  said  the  Farmer. 

After  looking  at  several  of  the  rooms,  they  found 
sixty-one,  and  the  Professor  tried  to  insert  the 
key  in  the  lock,  but  it  would  not  go  in. 

"  Confound  it,  this  key  don't  fit  I  "  said  the  Pro- 
fessor, struggling  away  at  the  keyhole. 

*^  Here,  let  me  try  it,"  proposed  Mozart ;  "  the  Pro- 
fessor has  smoked  so  many  cigars  to-night,  he  is 
tight." 

"  It  seems  to  me  I  hear  somebody  in  there,"  said 
the  Farmer  to  Mozart,  who  was  punching,  wrench- 
ing, and  banging  away  at  the  door  trying  to  get  the 
key  in  the  lock. 

Just  then,  from  the  inside  of  the  state-room  came 
a  voice  that  caused  Mozart  to  suspend  operations. 


28  CAMP   LIFE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

"  Murder  !  thieves  !  Captain,  somebody  is  trying 
to  break  into  my  room  I "  came  in  shrill  feminine 
tones   through  the  door. 

*'  Hold  your  noise  !  What  are  you  doing  in  my 
state-room?  "  retorted  the  Professor. 

"  Fire  !  robbers  !  Get  out  I  Don't  you  come  in 
here  !  "  again  shrieked  the  female. 

"  Look  here,  fellows,  this  must  be  a  mistake,"  said 
the  Farmer.     "  Let  me  see  that  key." 

Mozart  passed  it  to  him. 

"  Do  you  call  that  sixty-one,  sleepy  ?  "  he  asked, 
showing  the  Professor  the  figures  on  the  key.  "  It 
is  nineteen  I  you  looked  at  it  upside  down.  Your 
room  must  be  clear  forward." 

"So  —  I  —  did,"  said  the  Professor  slowly,  as  if 
he  couldn't  comprehend  it. 

"  Let's  hurry  away  from  here,  lively,  fellows,  or 
that  woman  will  raise  every  one  on  the  boat ;  "  and 
the  Farmer  turned  away. 

They  left  without  further  parley ;  they  succeeded 
in  opening  the  door  of  the  state-room  this  time,  and 
jumped  in  quickly,  for  people  were  inquiring  what 
the  trouble  was,  and  they  did  not  care  to  answer 
questions. 

In  ten  minutes  they  were  asleep,  and  did  not 
wake  until  seven  the  next  morning. 


THE  WAIT   IN  PORTLAND.  29 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  WAIT  IN  PORTLAND. 

WEDNESDAY  morning  the  gentlemen  met  on 
the  forward  deck,  and  after  getting  their 
baggage  and  the  stores  for  the  camp  (which  had 
come  along  with  them  on  the  steamer)  together, 
they  engaged  a  team  and  had  them  taken  over  to 
the  Grand  Trunk  Depot,  and  consigned  to  the  care 
of  the  baggage-master. 

Then  they  sauntered  out  for  breakfast,  and  finally 
found  a  saloon,  where  they  went  in  and  sat  down. 

Mozart  called  for  '•  vine  fruit." 

*'  What's  them?  "  asked  the  waiter. 

"  Beans  1 "  answered  Mozart ;  '^  and  a  cup  of  coffee 
with  them." 

*'  I'll  have  a  plate  of  mystery,"  said  the  Farmer. 

"  Mystery  ?  "  queried  the  waiter. 

"Yes,"  replied  the  Farmer:  "that  dark  and  mys- 
terious compound  formed  from  the  mixture  of  an- 
imal,  vegetable,   and    abominable   odds   and    ends. 


30  CAMP  LIFE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

The  dish  that  George  Washington  gloried  in,  that 
Napoleon  Bonaparte  fought  and  bled  for,  and  which 
Queen  Victoria  treated  me  to  three  times  when  I 
was  boarding  at  Windsor  Castle,  ycleped  hash  I  " 

"  Oh  !  you  mean  corn-beef  hash  ?  " 

"  That's  it,  ray  interesting  call-boy  I " 

'*'  You  may  bring  me,"  remarked  the  Professor, 
''  a  plate  of  the  conglomeration  of  the  Irish  potato 
and  a  dissected  body  of  one  of  the  finny  tribe." 

''  I  don't  know  what  you  mean." 

"  Didn't  you  ever  hear  of  mince  fish  ?  "  asked  the 
Professor. 

''  Yes." 

"  Well,  that's  what  I  want." 

*'  Now  look  here,  gentlemen,"  said  the  Artist, 
"  don't  have  any  more  fooling.  It  will  take  forever 
to  get  our  breakfast  at  this  rate.  Waiter,  bring  me 
a  beef-steak  and  some  hot  rolls." 

"  I'll  take  the  same,"  added  the  Pathfinder,  "  with 
the  addition  of  coffee." 

"  We  all  want  coffee,"  said  Mozart. 

Without  further  trouble  the  gentlemen  ate  their 
breakfast,  and  then  started  out  to  see  the  city. 

"  Let's  divide  the  party,"  suggested  the  Farmer. 
"  Mozart  and  I  will  go  on  a  stroll  together,  and  the 
Pathfinder,  with  the  Professor  and  Artist,  can  go  in 
a  different  direction,  and  we  will  all  meet  at  the 


THE  WAIT  IN  PORTLAND.  31 

Grand  Trunk  Depot  at  noon  and  compare  notes. 
Our  friends  on  the  cars  won't  be  here  until  nearly 
one  o'clock,  and  if  we  meet  at  the  depot  at  twelve, 
it  will  give  us  plenty  of  time  to  look  after  our  stuff . 
before  the  train  starts." 

This  proposition  was  favorably  received,  and  the 
two  parties  started  off  in  different  directions. 

The  Pathfinder,  Professor,  and  Artist  went  up  to 
the  post-office  to  mail  a  postal-card,  then  over  to  the 
City  Hall  to  take  a  look  at  the  building,  after  which 
they  strolled  along  to  the  Preble  House,  to  see  if  any 
one  was  stopping  there  whom  they  knew. 

They  had  reached  the  hotel  and  were  about  to 
enter,  when  the  Artist  felt  a  touch  on  his  shoulder, 
and  turning  round  he  stood  face  to  face  with  a 
policeman. 

'* What's  your  little  game?"  asked  the  officer, 
eying  the  party  suspiciously. 

"  Little  game  I  What  do  you  mean?  "  interrogated 
the  Artist,  who  was  indignant  at  having  a  "  copp  " 
take  so  much  interest  in  the  party. 

"  Oh,  we  know  you  down  here.  You  can't  pull 
the  wool  over  my  eyes.  The  chief  received  a  tele- 
gram that  you  had  left  Boston,  and  I've  been  on  the 
lay  for  you." 

"  The  devil  you  have  I  I)id  it  hurt  you  much  ?  " 
inquired  the  Artist,  who,  after  the  first  moment  of 


32  CAMP  LIFE  IN   THE   WILDERNESS. 

surprise,  saw  at  once  there  must  be  a  mistake,  and 
was  prepared  to  enjoy  the  joke. 

''  None  of  your  sarce,  or  I'll  put  the  bracelets  on 
you  and  trot  you  off  to  the  lock-up,"  replied  the 
officer,  disposed  to  show  his  authority,  as  a  crowd 
had  begun  to  collect,  who  were  interested  spectators 
of  the  scene. 

"  Don't  you  try  it  on,  my  Christian  friend,  unless 
you  want  to  get  yourself  into  trouble  !  Who  in  the 
world  do  you  take  us  for  ?  " 

"  Oh,  you're  the  swell  pickpocket  of  Broadway, 
known  to  the  force  of  New  York  as  Dandy  Charlie  ; 
and  these  other  two  birds  are  your  pals." 

"  Who  are  you  calling  birds,  you  rotten  piece  of 
old  crow-bait?"  put  in  the  Professor,  who  did  not 
like  the  allusion  to  the  Path6nder  and  himself. 

^'  Let's  go  into  the  hotel,"  suggested  the  Path- 
finder. "  This  star  has  outshone  himself  on  some 
festive  occasion  last  evening,  and  turned  up  this 
morning  drunk." 

"  You  talk  about  my  being  drunk,  and  I'll  make  you 
acquainted  with  my  billy,"  said  the  policeman,  angrily. 

'*  Better  introduce  yourself  to  us,"  argued  the 
Professor,  "  and  then  we  should  become  acquainted 
with  a  billy-goat." 

"  Nearest  relation  to  a  jackass,"  suggested  the 
A-rtist. 


THE  WAIT   IN   PORTLAND.  33 

"  Of  course  he's  a  jackass,"  said  Mozart.  ''  Look 
at  his  ears  !  " 

Now  the  policeman  happened  to  have  unusually 
large  ears,  and  the  crowd  appreciating  the  joke, 
roared  with  laughter. 

"  Stop  your  chafiBng,  and  go  down  to  the  depot ! 
You'll  take  the  first  train  to  Boston,"  said  the  oflScer, 
"  and  if  you  don't  move  fast,  I'll  arrest  the  whole 
of  you." 

**  It's  about  time  this  farce  was  brought  to  an  end," 
protested  the  Artist.  "  We  are  Boston  gentlemen 
on  our  way  to  the  Richardson  Lakes,  to  spend  a  few 
weeks.  My  name  is  Brown,  and  I  am  salesman  in  a 
store  in  Boston.  My  companions  are  Mr.  Jones,  and 
Mr.  Thompson.  I  can  very  easily  prove  my  own 
identity,  as  I  am  acquainted  with  several  business 
men  in  this  city ;  and  in  order  to  get  rid  of  your 
troublesome  espionage  and  unwelcome  company,  we 
will  go  down  to  Walnut  &  Co.'s,  and  Mr.  Walnut 
will  tell  you  what  I  have  said  is  true." 

"  Well,  we'll  go  down  to  the  store  and  see  what 
Walnut  has  to  say  about  you,"  replied  the  police- 
man, who  was  a  good  fellow  in  the  main,  but  who 
sometimes  went  a  little  too  far  in  what  he  thought 
the  discharge  of  his  duty. 

Accompanied  by  a  sidewalk  committee,  who  had 
taken  great  interest  in  the  controversy,  the  whole 


34  CAMP  LIFE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

party  walked  down  to  Walnut's  store,  and  the  hearty 
welcome  with  which  Mr.  Walnut  received  the  Artist, 
when  they  entered  his  counting-room,  assured  the 
policeman  that  he  had  made  a  mistake.  Explana- 
tions followed,  and  the  officer  apologized.  He  told 
them  that  a  party  of  three  New  York  pickpockets 
had  left  Boston  yesterday,  and  it  was  supposed  they 
had  come  to  Portland.  The  Portland  chief  of  police 
had  ordered  him  to  keep  a  sharp  look-out  for  them, 
and  that  if  he  ran  across  them  he  was  to  send  them 
back  to  Boston  by  the  next  train ;  and  drawing  a 
photograph  from  his  pocket,  he  added : 

"  And,  gentlemen,  you  must  allow  that  Dandy 
Charlie  strongly  resembles  Mr.  Brown.'' 

The  picture  was  passed  around,  and  they  all  con- 
cluded that  the  officer  had  some  grounds  for  his 
suspicions,  as  the  face  on  the  photograph  was  almost 
a  counterpart  of  the  Artist. 

"  That  is  the  misfortune  of  being  a  good-looking 
fellow,"  said  Mr.  Walnut,  who  saw  that  the  Artist 
felt  a  little  sore  over  the  affair. 

"  Yes,  that  pickpocket  is  a  mighty  good-looking 
fellow,"  acknowledged  the  policeman,  as  he  returned 
the  picture  to  his  pocket. 

"  Now  that  I  have  caused  you  so  much  trouble, 
can  I  be  of  any  service  to  you  ?  "  asked  the  officer, 


THE   WAIT   IN  PORTLAND.  35 

who,  when  he  had  found  out  who  the  gentlemen 
were,  was  really  sorry  for  his  ludicrous  mistake. 

"  No ;  thanks/'  replied  the  Artist,  adding  with  a 
laugh, ''  I  hope  you  won't  take  me  for  a  pickpocket 
if  we  ever  meet  again." 

"  No  danger  of  that  1 "  declared  the  officer.  "  So, 
good  morning,  gentlemen." 

After  the  guardian  of  the  peace  had  departed, 
they  sat  down  in  the  counting-room  and  had  a  chat 
and  a  smoke  with  Mr.  Walnut,  and  then  went  down 
to  the  depot. 

We  will  now  follow  Mozart  and  the  Farmer. 

After  parting  with  their  friends,  the  Farmer  pro- 
posed that  they  should  visit  some  of  the  wharves, 
and  if  they  could  find  a  good  sail-boat,  hire  it  for 
an  hour  or  two,  and  go  out  for  a  sail.  This  suited 
Mozart,  and  they  walked  along  Commercial  Street, 
about  half  a  mile  from  the  depot,  and  then  turned 
down  a  wharf  where  were  lying  a  number  of  boats 
and  vessels.  Reaching  the  foot  of  the  wharf,  they 
stopped  before  a  large  ship  that  was  being  unloaded. 

An  idea  seemed  to  strike  the  Farmer.  It  is  so 
seldom  such  a  thing  happens,  that  we  hasten  to 
make  a  note  of  it. 

*'  Mozart  I  " 

"What?" 

"  Did  you  know  that  I  was  a  ventriloquist?  " 


36  CAMP  LIFE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

"  No.     Did  you  know  it  ?  " 

"  No  joking,  Mozart.  I  am  quite  a  good  ventrilo- 
quist ;  and  instead  of  taking  a  sail,  we'll  have  some 
sport." 

"  Go  ahead,  my  hairpin,  and  let's  see  what  you 
can  do." 

Just  then  an  immense  hogshead  was  lowered  from 
the  deck  of  the  ship  to  the  wharf. 

The  moment  it  landed,  a  child's  voice  was  heard, 
apparently  coming  from  the  inside. 

''  Let  me  out  I  let  me  out ! "  it  called  in  feeble 
tones ;  ''  I  am  smothering." 

The  workmen  were  astonished,  and  rolled  the 
hogshead  along  a  little  way,  looking  to  see  if  there 
was  a  child  underneath  it. 

*'  Don't  roll  me  over  1  Oh,  please  let  me  out  I  I 
am  starving  I  "  came  again  in  a  low  tone  from  the 
inside  of  the  hogshead. 

"  Och,  murther  !  "  said  one  of  the  longshoremen ; 
"  it's  childer  there  is  in  there  shure !  " 

"  What's  the  matter  here  ?  "  asked  the  stevedore, 
who  had  charge  of  the  unloading  of  the  vessel, 
approaching  the  little  group  around  the   hogshead. 

"  Mitter  enough,  sir-r  I  there's  a  bye  in  this  hogs- 
head I " 

"  Are  you  going  to  let  me  die  in  here  ?     Give  me 


THE  WAIT   IN  PORTLAND.  37 

some  air,  for  God's  sake  I  "  came  in  still  fainter  tones 
from  the  inside. 

"  Good  heavens !  there's  a  child  in  that  cask !  " 
exclaimed  the  stevedore  excitedly.  "  Here,  Mickey, 
bring  me  a  hammer  or  hatchet,  quick !  " 

The  hatchet  was  brought,  and  the  kind-hearted 
stevedore  began  in  a  lively  manner  to  rip  out  the 
head  of  the  hogshead. 

"  Be  careful !  don't  hurt  me  I "  again  came  the 
voice,  apparently  right  from  under  the  hatchet. 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,  my  little  dear,"  replied  the  steve- 
dore, as  he  tore  off  the  last  piece  of  the  cover,  and 
begap  pulling  out  the  straw  that  covered  the  crock- 
ery with  which  the  cask  was  filled. 

"You're  just  in  time  —  I'm  most  gone!"  piped 
up  in  feeble  tones  again  from  the  hogshead,  this  time 
from  clear  down  to  the  bottom. 

Hurriedly  the  stevedore  pulled  at  the  straw  and 
dishes  inside,  and  in  an  almost  incredibly  short  time 
was  pawing  about  on  the  bottom  of  the  hogshead, 
without  having  seen  anything  in  the  shape  of  a 
child.  And  then  a  puzzled  expression  crossed  his 
face  that  nearly  threw  Mozart  into  a  gale  of  laugh- 
ter, but,  at  the  imminent  risk  of  bursting  a  blood- 
vessel, he  managed  to  retain  a  sober  face. 

•'  What  a  jackass  you  are  1 "  now  came  in  stento- 
rian tones  from  right  over  the  stevedore's  head. 


38  CAMP  LIFE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

He  looked  up,  but  did  not  discover  anything. 

"  I  believe  I  am  sold/'  he  said,  as  he  commenced 
to  repack  the  hogshead. 

''  You  bet  you  are  !  "  came  from  the  inside  of  the 
cask  again ;  and  Mozart  and  the  Farmer  strolled  up 
the  wharf 

The}^  crossed  the  street,  and  found  themselves 
beside  some  Irish  shanties. 

"Here's  another  cliance  for  fun.  Come  on,  Mo- 
zart ! " 

They  stepped  into  a  little  yard  in  front  of  one  of 
the  houses.  From  an  upper  window  an  Irish  woman 
was  looking  out.  In  a  moment,  the  Farmer  made 
her  say,  apparently : 

"  Murther  I    Perlace  !     Somebody  's  being  kilt  I  " 

At  the  sound  of  the  voice  the  woman  looked  as- 
tonished. 

"  What's  the  row  ?  "  called  Mozart,  looking  up  at 
the  window\ 

"  A  poor,  lone  widdy  's  bein'  murthered  here.  Per- 
lace !  perlace !  "  apparently  came  from  the  woman 
in  answer,  who,  upon  hearing  the  strange  voice 
the  second  time,  looked  frightened  as  well  as  as- 
tonished. 

"What's  going  on  here?"  asked  a  policeman  of 
the  gentlemen,  attracted  by  the  noise. 


THE  WAIT  IN  PORTLAND.  39 

*'  Och,  Mr.  Perlaceman  !  come  up  here  quick,  will 
yees?  "  again  sounded  from  the  window. 

The  policeman  rushed  up,  and  Mozart  and  the 
Artist,  almost  choking  with  laughter,  walked  away 
towards  the  depot. 

On  their  way  they  came  to  a  large  building  full 
of  offices,  and  the  Farmer  proposed  that  they  should 
go  in.  It  was  a  four- story  block.  They  went  up- 
stairs, and  pretty  soon  the  cry  of  "  Fire  1 "  in  half  a 
dozen  different  voices  resounded  through  the  build- 
ing, and  the  inmates  began  hurrying  down-stairs, 
one  making  tracks  for  the  nearest  box,  and  turning 
in  an  alarm. 

The  Farmer  and  Mozart  went  out  with  the  crowd, 
and,  thinking  it  might  not  be  healthy  to  remain  longer 
in  that  locality,  travelled  to  the  depot,  where  they 
found  their  friends;  and  they  all  took  dinner  to- 
gether in  the  saloon,  comparing  notes  while  they 
were  eating.'  No  mention  was  made  of  the  Farmer's 
talents  for  ventriloquism,  for  he  had  made  Mozart 
promise  not  to  tell  the  rest  of  the  party,  because  it 
would  spoil  some  future  good  time. 

Mozart  kept  silent,  and  nothing  was  said  of  their 
adventures  at  the  dinner-table,  the  time  being  taken 
up  by  the  Artist  relating  his  experience  with  Fort- 
land  policemen. 


40 


CAMP  LIFE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 


As  soon  as  the  Montreal  train  backed  into  the 
depot,  they  took  seats  in  the  smoking-car ;  and  here 
Sportsman  found  them  on  our  arrival. 

We  will  now  go  on  with  the  story  after  leaving 
Portland. 


FROM   PORTLAND   TO   BETHEL  AND   ANDOVER.         41 


CHAPTER  IV. 

FROM  PORTLAND   TO   BETHEL   AND   ANDOVER. 

AT  a  quarter  past  one  the  train  containing  our 
party  left  the  depot  and  steamed  northward. 
The  Governor  and  myself,  with  the  ladies,  occupied 
seats  in  one  of  the  passenger-cars,  and  the  single 
men  of  the  party  were  enjoying  themselves  with 
cigars  and  euchre  in  the  smoking-car. 

We  were  now  a  little  more  comfortable  than  we 
had  been  in  the  forenoon,  and  enjoyed  the  beautiful 
scener}^  which  was  constantly  changing,  to  our 
hearts'  content.  It  is  a  very  pretty  ride  over  the 
Grand  Trunk  Railroad  between  Portland  and  Bethel; 
and  after  you  leave  Mechanics  Falls,  the  hills  rapidly 
grow  to  mountains ;  and  the  nearer  you  get  to  the 
station,  the  higher  and  more  romantic  the  mountains 
appear. 

Occasionally  some  of  the  party  from  the  smoking- 
car  would  pay  us  a  visit;  and  once  I  went  in  there 
to  see  who  was  beating  at  euchre,  and  found  all  the 


4:'A  CAMP  LIFE  IN   THE  WILDERNESS. 

fellows  engaged  in  helping  the  Professor  put  out  of 
sight  a  large  loaf  of  cake  that  he  had  brought  from 
home.  That  was  the  kind  of  a  game  which  I  under- 
stood very  well  myself;  I  accordingly  took  a  hand 
in  it,  and  found  the  cake  to  be  excellent.  After  the 
lunch,  I  returned  to  the  passenger-car  again. 

At  quarter  of  five  the  train  stopped  at  Bethel, 
seventy  miles  from  Portland,  and  we  stepped  out  on 
the  platform  in  front  of  the  depot,  glad  to  leave  the 
cars  after  our  long  ride,  we  having  travelled  about 
one  hundred  and  eighty-three  miles  since  morning. 

We  took  possession  of  the  Bethel  House  carriage, 
and  were  whirled  up  to  the  hotel,  where  we  sat 
down  to  a  splendid  supper,  wiiich,  under  our  com- 
bined attack,  grew  beautifully  less  each  moment. 
Before  I  had  half  finished,  the  Governor  caught  me 
by  the  collar  and  took  me  away  from  the  table,  de- 
claring that  I  had  already  eaten  as  much  as  any 
three  of  the  party,  and,  for  the  honor  of  the  company, 
he  did  not  want  me  to  breed  a  famine  in  Bethel. 
With  a  doughnut  in  one  hand,  a  piece  of  pie  in  the 
other,  and  a  mouth  full  of  sirloin-steak,  I  sputtered 
and  gesticulated  indignantly ;  but,  in  spite  of  my 
struggles,  he  succeeded  in  getting  me  outside  of  the 
hotel,  and  I  was  forced  to  finish  my  supper  on  top 
of  the  stage. 

When  we  were  ready  to  start,  we  found  the  land- 


FROM  PORTLAND  TO  BETHEL  AND  AND  OVER.    43 

lord  of  the  hotel  wanted  one  of  our  party  to  drive 
a  horse  and  buggy,  with  a  lady,  to  Andover.  The 
Artist  volunteered,  and  made  a  wry  face  when  the 
Governor  told  him  it  was  an  old  woman  of  sixty 
that  he  was  to  have  for  a  passenger.  However,  as 
he  had  offered,  he  would  not  back  out,  and  was 
agreeably  surprised,  when  he  assisted  his  compan- 
ion into  the  carriage,  to  find  her  a  nice-looking  lady 
of  about  twenty-five  years  of  age.  Whereupon  the 
Artist  gazed  around  with  a  look  which  gave  us  to 
understand  that  he  had  the  best  of  us ;  and,  helping 
the  lady  in,  he  drove  away,  amid  the  smiles  and 
winks  of  the  rest  of  our  party. 

The  lady  I  found,  on  inquiry  of  the  landlord,  to  be 
a  married  woman,  residing  in  Andover,  where  we 
were  bound.  But  the  unfortunate  Artist  supposed 
the  lady  to  be  single,  as  he  understood  the  landlord 
to  say  Miss  Black,  instead  of  3Irs.  Black,  when  he 
introduced  them ;  and  he  considered  himself  lucky, 
at  so  early  a  stage  of  our  journey,  in  making  the 
acquaintance  of  so  pleasant  a  young  lady. 

After  tea,  we  found  Littlehale's  comfortable  stage 
awaiting  us  at  the  door  of  the  hotel,  and  we  took 
our  places  for  a  twenty-two  mile  ride  to  Andover. 
The  driver  climbed  to  his  seat,  gathered  up  his 
reins,  let  his  whip-lash  straighten  out,  and  chirruped 
an  encouraging  word  to  his  horses,  and,  with  a  hur- 


44  CAMP  LIFE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

rah  that  brought  half  the  people  in  the  hotel  to  the 
windows,  away  we  went.  We  had  eaten  a  good 
supper,  and  now,  with  stories  and  cigars,  we  whiled 
away  the  time  pleasantly  as  we  dashed  over  the 
road,  the  good-natured  driver  contributing  several 
yarns  that  would  have  done  honor  to  any  captain,  of 
the  fore-top. 

The  stage-ride  from  Bethel  to  Andover  is  not  sur- 
passed by  any  in  New  England.  The  road  is  level 
nearly  the  entire  distance,  and  only  one  or  two  slight 
hills  cause  the  horses  any  effort.  The  route  lies 
down  the  Androscoggin  valley  for  twelve  miles,  fol- 
lowing the  river  closely,  and  furnishing  landscape 
views  that  cannot  be  excelled.  At  Rumford  we 
leave  the  Androscoggin,  and  follow  up  the  Ellis 
River  to  Andover,  a  distance  of  ten  miles.  The 
valleys  are  bounded  by  mountains  on  either  side, 
that  sweep  away  in  graceful  curves  in  every  direc- 
tion. 

Leaving  the  charming  village  of  Bethel,  the  road 
crosses  the  Grand  Trunk  Railroad  above  grade,  and 
a  few  rods  farther  on,  the  Androscoggin  River  is 
crossed  over  a  substantial  wooden  covered  bridge. 
Just  beyond  here,  in  clear  weather,  one  obtains  a 
splendid  view  of  Mount  Washington  and  its  attend- 
ant peaks.  The  road  runs  through  North  Bethel 
and  Hanover,  pretty  country  villages,  and  for  its 


FROM  PORTLAND   TO   BETHEL   AND   ANDOVER.         45 

entire  length  is  a  combined  panorama  of  river,  forest, 
and  mountain  scenery  rarely  to  be  met  with  in  New 
England.  All  were  delighted  with  the  scenery,  and 
frequent  were  the  exclamations  of  surprise  and 
pleasure  that  burst  from  the  lips  of  some  of  our 
party,  as  each  new  turn  in  the  road  disclosed  a  pic- 
ture apparently  more  beautiful  than  those  we  had 
just  passed. 

The  roof  of  the  stage  was  covered  with  valises, 
guns,  blankets,  fishing-rods,  and  sundry  other  neces- 
saries of  camp-life  ;  and  the  Professor  and  the  Path- 
finder, who  were  lying  on  top  of  these  "  fixin's," 
declared  their  bones  would  be  broken  before  we 
should  pull  up  at  the  Andover  House. 

I  sat  on  the  upper  seat,  with  Spot  behind  me,  and 
was  considerably  crowded,  for  one  of  the  stages  had 
stopped  at  Hanover,  as  there  were  only  two  persons 
on  it  going  through  to  Andover ;  and  our  team,  al- 
though a  large  four-horse  coach,  was  well  packed, 
in  fact,  it  was  overloaded ;  and  if  I  had  not  thought 
a  great  deal  of  my  dog,  I  should  have  been  tempted 
to  sell  him  cheap.  Owing  to  our  close  quarters, 
my  seat  was  none  of  the  easiest  when  we  left  Han- 
over, and  before  we  reached  Andover,  between 
quieting  the  dog  and  keeping  my  legs  from  being 
cramped,  I  thought  I  was  as  near  Purgatory  as  1 
ghould  ever  get. 


46  CAMP  LIFE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

The  Governor  told  mo  that  was  the  beauty  of 
owning  a  "  purp,"  a  remark  which  I  answered  only 
by  a  look  of  disgust  and  a  silence  more  expres- 
sive than  words.  In  spite  of  physical  discomforts, 
however,  we  were  a  merry  company  as  we  started 
to  complete  the  last  stage  of  our  ride. 

The  scenery  still  continued  lovely ;  and  the  moun- 
tains and  valleys  were  covered  with  that  soft  tinge 
that  pervades  the  country  as  the  sun  slowly  sinks 
behind  some  western  hill,  and  daylight  gives  way  to 
the  delicious  twilight  that  heralds  in  the  night.  The 
charm  of  the  hour  was  felt  by  the  most  hilarious  of 
our  party. 

The  road  occasionally  winds  through  large  tracts 
of  woodland ;  and  one  of  our  party,  who  noticed  a 
large  growth  of  birch,  gravely  informed  us  that 
white  birch  made  excellent  spools,  and  then  gave  us 
such  a  dissertation  on  the  spool  question,  that  the 
Professor  told  him  he  bad  better  hire  a  hall  when  he 
reached  Andover,  and  finish  his  lecture,  —  which 
remark  silenced  him  for  a  moment.  Shortly  after- 
wards, this  same  gentleman  noticed  a  field  contain- 
ing herdsgrass,  and  called  our  attention  to  it  with 
the  remark: 

"  What  a  splendid  field  of  grain ! " 

We  ventured  to  inquire  what  kind  of  grain  he 
called  it,  and  he  said : 


FROM   PORTLAND   TO   BETHEL    AND    ANDOVER.         47 

"  Oats !  " 

A  general  laugh  followed,  and  Mozart  advised  him 
to  read  Greeley's  "  What  I  Know  about  Farming." 

As  the  horses  trotted  along,  our  songs  floated  out 
into  the  still  summer  night;  and  a  more  hilarious 
party  for  perfectly  sober  people  never  awoke  the 
echoes  of  the  grand  old  hills  than  ours,  as  the  stage 
dashed  up  to  the  Andover  House  and  came  to  a 
standstill. 

We  alighted,  were  welcomed  by  the  landlord,  and 
shown  to  our  rooms,  with  which  we  were  well  suited, 
especially  those  for  the  ladies. 

Some  of  our  party  retired  early;  but  the  Artist 
and  Miss  Black,  the  Farmer,  Sportsman,  and  Mozart, 
went  over  to  the  Town  Hall  and  attended  a  church 
fair  that  was  being  held  that  evening. 

The  Artist  played  the  gallant  to  his  companion, 
treating  her  to  ices,  confectionery,  &c. ;  and  after 
the  party  returned  to  the  hotel  and  had  retired  to 
their  rooms,  the  Artist,  who  roomed  with  the  Sports- 
man, told  him  she  was  a  fine  girl,  and  a  mighty  sen- 
sible little  thing,  too,  and  he  meant  to  cultivate  her 
acquaintance.  The  Sportsman,  knowing  who  the 
lady  was,  could  with  diflSculty  retain  a  sober  face ; 
and  in  the  morning  he  brought  us  all  together,  with 
the  exception  of  the  poor  Artist,  and  told  us  about 
his  going  into  rhapsodies  over  Mrs.  Black. 


48 


CAMP  LIFE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 


My  wife  went  to  the  lad j  —  who,  by  the  way,  was 
boarding  at  the  hotel  —  and  asked  her  not  to  expose 
the  joke.  She  promised ;  and  when  we  started  for 
the  lakes,  the  Artist  manoeuvred  for  half  an  hour  to 
get  a  good  chance  to  speak  to  his  girl  alone  before 
we  left  the  hotel ;  but  we  blocked  him  every  time, 
much  to  his  chagrin  and  disappointment. 


i::lllkii..:iimi!Mi;ii!iii!!iii  iiiiiulllllll1ffliiHI'!.i''l'l!lllll  II "  '".•JlWWa., 


ON   THE   LAKE   ROAD.  51 


CHAPTER   V. 

ON     THE     LAKE     ROAD. 

THURSDAY  morning  we  were  up  betimes,  and 
came  down  to  the  table  with  our  backwood  toga 
on,  looking  not  unlike  a  party  of  emigrants  starting 
for  the  plains.  Our  costumes  were  of  a  nondescript 
character,  no  two  of  us  being  dressed  alike. 

We  had  a  "  stunning  breakfast,"  to  quote  the 
Farmer,  everything  fresh  and  nice,  and  the  crispy, 
brown  trout  disappeared  from  view  with  marvellous 
celerity.  We  were  all  delighted  with  our  breakfast, 
and  felt  almost  sorry  to  leave  such  hospitable  quar- 
ters, but  the  woods  and  lakes,  with  their  game  and 
fish,  beckoned  us  forward. 

The  guide  and  cook  the  landlord  had  engaged  for 
us  was  at  the  hotel  early.  We  were  very  much 
pleased  with  his  appearance,  and  on  further  ac- 
quaintance with  his  many  excellent  qualities  we 
found  we  had  not  misjudged  him  when  we  had 
decided  that  he  was  a  right  hearty  good  fellow. 


52  CAMP  LIFE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

At  seven  o'clock  two  buckboards  —  a  team  pe- 
culiar to  that  section  of  the  country  —  drew  up 
before  the  door  of  the  hotel,  and  we  proceeded  to 
load  up.  It  is  the  best  vehicle  for  rough  riding  that 
I  have  ever  seen. 

A  few  articles,  forgotten  in  Boston,  we  purchased 
at  a  grocery  store  in  Andover,  near  the  hotel,  and 
these  had  been  taken  on  before  the  teams  drove  up 
to  the  house ;  consequently,  as  soon  as  we  had  se- 
curely loaded  our  traps,  we  bade  the  ladies,  who 
had  gathered  on  the  piazza  to  see  us  off,  "  good- 
bye," and  with  Spot  following  behind  the  teams, 
away  we  went  for  the  lakes,  twelve  miles  distant. 

We  left  the  hotel,  and  had  only  driven  a  few  rods, 
when  I  found  I  had  left  my  revolver  behind.  Mr. 
Thomas  offered  to  get  it  if  I  would  drive  slow,  and 
he  started  back  on  the  run.  He  soon  overtook  us, 
and  handing  me  the  revolver,  he  took  the  reins  and 
spurred  up  the  horses,  who  increased  their  speed, 
trotting  along  in  fine  style. 

It  was  a  lovely  morning  ;  we  were  all  in  exuberant 
spirits,  and  anxious  to  reach  the  lakes,  where  our 
sport  would  commence. 

The  drivers  were  continually  plied  with  questions, 
which  were  answered  good-naturedly.  Mr.  Thomas 
drove  one  team,  and  Mr.  Hewey  the  other  one,  so 


ON   THE   LAKE   ROAD.  53 

that  we  had  a  couple  of  as  good  fellows  for  drivers 
as  could  bo  found  in  Andover. 

The  road  we  were  following  led  off  to  the  east  of 
the  village,  and  we  crossed  the  Ellis  River  over  a 
covered  bridge,  strongly  built,  taking  the  place  of 
an  old  rickety  affair,  which  had  been  destroyed  three 
years  before  by  a  spring  freshet.  After  leaving  the 
bridge,  the  road  continued  a  short  distance  to  the 
right,  and  then  swung  around  to  the  left,  ascending  a 
hill  from  whose  summit  could  be  obtained  a  splendid 
view  of  Andover  lying  spread  out  in  the  valley 
below  us,  the  Ellis  in  the  foreground,  and  a  long 
range  of  mountains,  their  peaks  cleaving  the  sky, 
and  covered  with  a  heavy  forest  growth,  forming  a 
background  for  as  lovely  a  landscape  as  ray  eyes 
had  ever  rested  on. 

Many  were  the  compliments  the  village  received 
from  the  members  of  our  party,  who  were  unanimous 
in  the  opinion  that  a  prettier  painting  from  Nature *s 
brush  they  had  never  gazed  upon. 

A  short  distance  beyond  the  top  of  this  hill  we 
passed  a  picturesque-looking  old  farm-house,  with  an 
"  old  oaken  bucket "  in  front  of  it.  Mr.  Thomas  in- 
formed us  that  this  was  the  last  house  on  the  road, 
and  we  looked  at  it  with  some  little  interest  as  the 
last  link  that  bound  us  to  the  outer  world.  But  it 
was   soon  out  of  sight,  and    a  drive   of  two  miles 


54  CAMP  LIFE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

brought  US  to  Black  Brook,  across  which  we  rattled, 
and  a  rod  or  two  beyond  left  the  county-road,  turn- 
ing into  the  Lake  Road  from  the  left.  From  this 
point  to  the  Arm  of  the  Lake  is  nine  miles. 

This  road  through  the  woods  is  only  used  by  par- 
ties going  to  or  from  the  lakes,  and  is  only  wide 
enough  for  one  team. 

^'  Look  here,  Scribbler ! "  asked  the  Farmer, 
"  what  do  you  do  when  you  meet  a  team  ? " 

"  Drive  into  the  woods,  and  let  them  pass." 

"  But  there  isn't  room." 

"  Oh,  they  drive  right  over  common-sized  trees 
and  rocks.  You  will  see  how  it  is  done  if  we  meet 
a  team." 

"  My  breakfast  is  gradually  working  into  my 
boots,"  said  the  Professor,  as  we  drove  over  a  stone 
about  two  feet  high. 

"  Oh,  this  is  nothing,"  I  remarked ;  "  if  you  want 
your  breakfast  settled,  wait  until  we  get  to  the 
Devil's  Turnpike." 

"  You  had  better  draw  your  belt  a  little  tighter," 
suggested  the  Guide,  laughing ;  *'  we'll  not  have 
anything  to  eat  until  we  get  into  camp." 

"  When  will  that  be  ?  "  asked  Mozart. 

"  About  sundown." 

"  Scribbler  will  starve  before  that  time,"  laughed 
the  Governor,  "  and  we  shall  have  to  bury  him." 


ON  THE  LAKE   ROAD.  67 

"  Don't  you  be  alarmed  for  me,"  I  returned  ;  "  I 
can  look  out  for  number  one." 

The  part  of  the  road  over  which  we  were  now 
riding  was  in  the  middle  of  the  forest,  and  huge 
trees  surrounded  us  on  every  side.  We  could  only 
get  a  peep  at  the  sky  by  looking  directly  overhead  ; 
and  at  times  we  could  not  even  do  that,  as  the 
branches  of  some  of  the  old  trees  met  above  us, 
forming  a  beautiful  natural  arch,  and  completely 
hiding  the  sky  and  sun.  The  road  was  filled 
with  roots,  rocks,  and  stumps,  varied  occasionally 
by  mud-holes,  in  which  the  wheels  would  sink 
over  the  hubs,  and  when  they  emerged  would  some- 
times besprinkle  us  plentifully  with  natural  blacking. 
But  as  we  were  dressed  in  the  worst  clothes  we 
owned,  we  did  not  mind  it  any,  and  would  only  com- 
plain when  one  of  us  would  get  a  plaster  in  the  eyes. 
This  would  so  tickle  the  Governor  that  he  would 
roar  with  laughter,  and  fairl}'-  shake  the  team.  But 
after  a  while  we  had  the  laugh  on  him ;  for  just  as 
he  was  opening  his  mouth  to  make  some  facetious 
remark,  our  team  went  into  another  slough,  and  one 
of  the  forward  wheels  threw  up  a  junk  of  soft  mud 
the  size  of  an  egg,  which  struck  him  square  on  the 
nose,  a  little  flying  into  his  mouth.  Perhaps  we 
didn't  laugh  any  to  see  him  spit,  and  sputter,  and 


58  CAMP  LIFE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

wipe?  Of  course  we  didn't  —  oh,  no  !  After  that  he 
was  quiet  for  a  time. 

"  I  hear  a  team  coming/'  remarked  the  Sportsman. 

"It  is  some  distance  away,  though,"  I  replied,  as 
the  sound  of  the  wheels  and  the  murmur  of  voices 
came  indistinctly  to  my  ears. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do,  Thomas  ?  "  asked  the 
Farmer  ;  "  there  isn't  room  to  pass  them  here." 

"  Yes  there  is,"  returned  the  driver ;  and  turning 
his  horses  from  the  road,  they  went  into  the  woods 
over  rocks,  bushes,  and  young  trees  so  springy  that 
they  nearly  upset  us  when  they  bent  under  the  bot- 
tom of  the  buckboard. 

The  other  team  passed,  and  we  exchanged  a  few 
words  with  the  strangers. 

"  You  understand  driving  pretty  well,"  said  the 
Professor  to  Thomas,  as  we  regained  the  road. 

**  This  is  nothing.  If  you  want  to  see  hard  riding 
you  should  come  out  here  just  after  the  frost  is  out 
of  the  ground  in  the  spring." 

"  I  should  think  it  might  be  rather  bad." 

"  Well,  I  guess  it  is.  Sometimes  horses  get  mired 
here,  and  we  have  an  awful  job  getting  them  out." 

"  Why  is  not  something  done  to  the  road  to  keep 
it  in  better  order?" 

"  There  is  something  done  every  year,  but  it  im- 
proves slowly.     We  are  going  to  raise  five  hundred 


ON  THE  LAKE   ROAD.  59 

dollars  next  winter,  and  put  it  on  the  road  next 
spring.  That  will  help  us  a  great  deal.  In  time 
we  shall  make  a  pretty  fair  road  out  of  it,  doing 
a  little  ever}^  year." 

^'  How  far  are  we  from  Smith's  Mill  ? "  I  asked 
of  Thomas. 

"A  few  rods,"  he  replied,  turning  off  to  a  small 
opening  on  the  left-hand  side  of  the  road. 

"  Come  on,  gentlemen,"  I  shouted,  jumping  down 
from  the  buckboard,  "  and  111  show  you  the  Devil's 
Den!" 

"  Hope  we  won't  find  him  at  home,"  said  the 
Pathfinder. 

Thomas  and  I  led  the  way  across  the  open  glade, 
down  the  path  which  passed  near  a  spring  where  was 
some  excellent  water.  We  all  took  a  drink  of  it  — 
clear,  sparkling,  and  cold.  Crossing  the  head  of  a 
little  rivulet,  now  dry,  w^e  ascended  a  slight  ele- 
vation on 'the  opposite  side,  and  in  a  moment  more 
stood  beside  the  "  Devil's  Den,"  one  of  the  romantic 
sights  of  the  Lake  Road.  It  is  certainly  a  great  curi- 
osity, and  the  gentlemen  were  delighted  with  the 
place. 

"  A  person  could  obtain  some  splendid  stereoscopic 
views  here,"  said  the  Artist. 

"  Indeed  they  could,"  I  replied ;  "  and  I  wish  we 
had  some  photographic  apparatus  with  us." 


60  CAMP  LIFE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

While  we  were  examining  the  ''  Devil's  Den," 
Spot — to  use  a  nautical  phrase — came  very  near 
losing  the  number  of  his  mess.  He  had  crossed  to 
the  other  side  on  the  large  beam  that  lay  across 
the  top  of  the  Den,  and  was  coming  back,  when 
he  met  Mr.  Thomas,  who,  not  being  troubled  with  a 
dizzy  head,  was  standing  on  the  beam  right  over  the 
middle  of  the  awful  chasm.  Spot  undertook  to  walk 
over  Thomas's  feet,  but  having  so  little  room,  his 
hind  feet  slipped  off  the  timber,  and  in  a  second 
more  he  was  hanging  between  heaven  and  earth, 
over  that  horrible  gulf,  with  his  fore  paws  resting 
on  the  timber,  and  the  nails  of  his  feet  dug  into  the 
wood,  which,  luckily  for  him,  was  a  little  soft,  so 
that  he  had  a  pretty  good  hold.  The  dog  was 
aware  of  his  danger,  and  looked  up  in  Thomas's 
face  in  a  beseeching  manner. 

A  cry  of  alarm  escaped  me  as  I  noticed  the  dog's 
predicament.  I  was  too  far  away  to  render  him  any 
assistance;  and  if  the  poor  fellow  was  to  die,  I  didn't 
want  him  to  be  mangled  in  such  a  way  as  he  would 
have  been  had  he  fallen  the  sixty  feet  which  inter- 
vened between  him  and  the  sharp-pointed  rocks 
below. 

But  Thomas  was  cool,  and  had  presence  of  mind 
equal  to  the  emergency.  Stooping  carefully  down, 
he  seized  the  dog  by  the  nape  of  the  neck,  and  a 


ON  THE   LAKE   ROAD.  61 

moment  later  he  held  Spot  in  his  arms,  and  brought 
him  across  to  where  I  was  standing. 

"  The  little  devil  hnng  on  like  grim  death,"  he 
remarked,  as  he  dropped  him  by  my  side. 

"  Thomas,  you  are  a  brick/'  I  replied.  "  Give  us 
your  hand,  and  let's  have  a  shake  on  the  strength 
of  what  you've  done.  There  are  not  many,  had 
they  been  in  your  place,  that  would  have  managed 
that  affair  so  cleverly." 

"  Oh,  that's  nothing,"  said  Thomas,  with  becoming 
modesty. 

"  Three  cheers  for  Thomas  I"  sang  out  the  Sports- 
man ;  and  they  were  given  with  a  will ;  and  Spot 
barked  lustily,  as  if  he  understood  the  matter,  and 
wanted  to  do  his  share. 

"  Now,  Scribbler,  you  had  better  look  out  for  that 
dog  the  rest  of  the  time  we  are  here,"  suggested 
the  Sportsman. 

"  Oh,  he41  be  all  right,"  answered  Thomas.  "  He- 
would  have  crossed  the  beam  well  enough  if  I  hadn't 
been  in  his  way.  I  didn't  see  him  at  all  until  your 
brother  screamed." 

"  It's  lucky  I  screamed  then,"  I  replied. 

"  Yes,  it  was ;  for  he  would  have  been  a  dead 
canine  in  a  moment  longer." 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  the  Farmer,  oracularly,  strik- 


62  CAMP  LIFE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

ing  an  attitude,  "  in  the  midst  of  life  we  are  in 
death.'' 

"Now,  Farmer,  simmer  down,"  cried  Mozart,  "and 
let's  see  the  rest  of  this  place." 

"  Come  with  me,"  I  called,  "  and  I  will  show  you 
Hermit  Falls  and  Silver-ripple  Cascade." 

I  led  them  a  little  way  beyond  the  Den,  and  we 
stood  on  the  banks  of  Black  Brook,  which  are 
formed  of  heavy  masses  of  granite  rock,  scarred  and 
seamed,  and  watched  the  water  as  it  came  tumbling, 
foaming,  and  swirling  down  between  the  rough 
sides,  forming  a  pretty  little  fall;  then  flowing 
smoothly  a  short  distance,  it  breaks  up  and  sweeps 
over  the  bed-rock,  forming  a  very  beautiful  cascade, 
and,  a  short  distance  below,  emptying  into  a  round 
basin  in  the  rock,  forming  a  handsome  pool,  some- 
thing like  the  Garnet  Pool,  near  the  Glen  House, 
only  twice  as  large. 

"  They  call  this  the  '  Devil's  Caldron,'  "  I  said  to 
the  Pathfinder,  pointing  to  a  whirlpool  at  the  foot  of 
the  fall. 

"  I  should  think  the  devil  had  a  mortgage  on  this 
place,"  he  replied ;  "  everything  seems  to  belong  to 
him." 

"By  Jove,  Scribbler  1"  cried  the  Artist  to  me,  from 
below  us ;  '*  this  is  splendid.  I  mean  to  try  and 
make  a  sketch  of  this  fall  and  cascade  I " 


JOHN50NyDYEB 

Silver  Ripple  Cascade,  Black   Brook,  Akdover,  Me. 


ON   THE   LAKE  ROAD.  65 

"  There  is  a  good  place  for  you  to  get  a  view  of 
them/'  I  replied,  pointing  to  an  immense  boulder 
that  overhung  the  pool,  and  was  situated  just  at  the 
foot  of  the  cascade,  on  the  opposite  side  from  where 
we  stood.  "  Cross  the  brook  higher  up,  and  then 
you  can  get  down  to  it." 

"  Mozart,"  said  the  Governor,  "  suppose  you  and  I 
throw  a  fly  here,  while  the  Artist  is  making  his 
sketch." 

"  All  right  I  I'll  run  back  to  the  team  and  get  our 
rods." 

We  spent  over  an  hour  in  this  charming  locality, 
and  the  Artist  made  two  very  good  sketches,  —  one 
of  the  cascade,  the  other  of  the  falls. 

The  Governor  and  Mozart  were  rewarded  with 
fine  trout  for  the  time  spent  in  fishing,  and  were 
pleased  with  their  success.  The  fish  averaged 
about  half  a  pound  each  in  weight. 

Black  Brook  flows  near  the  road  for  several  miles, 
and  is  one  of  the  best  trout  streams  in  the  vicinity 
of  Andover. 

While  we  were  at  the  Den,  two  other  teams  arrived 
at  the  turn-out  with  a  party  of  six,  who  were  bound 
up  the  lakes.  They  did  not  make  as  long  a  stop  as 
our  party,  and  left  ahead  of  us. 

Finally,  Thomas  said  we  must  he  moving,  and  we 
bundled  into  the  teams,  and  the  horses  were  started. 
5 


66  CAMP  LIFE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

For  three  miles  we  continued  on  our  way,  witliout 
anything  occurring  worthy  of  note,  and  then  reached 
a  spur  of  Blue  Mountain,  known  as  Cedar  Hill. 
Over  this  the  road  was  rough  and  rocky,  and  we 
joked  and  laughed  over  the  shaking  up  we  received. 
As  we  reached  the  top  of  the  hill,  an  opening  in  the 
woods  appeared  before  us. 

"  There's  Black  Brook  Notch/^  remarked  ITiomas, 
pointing  ahead. 

"  What  a  frightful  precipice  ! ''  remarked  the  Artist, 
gazing  at  the  mountain  on  our  right,  which  rose 
almost  perpendicularly  from  base  to  summit,  tower- 
ing eight  hundred  feet  above  us,  its  sides  barren  of 
vegetation,  except  a  little  grass  and  a  few  fir-trees. 

"  A  fellow  would  find  it  a  pretty  hard  job  to  climb 
up  there,"  said  the  Professor. 

"It  would  be  an  utter  impossibility,"  I  remarked. 
"  Why,  look,  there  are  places  on  the  face  of  the  ledge 
where  it  is  perfectly  smooth  for  at  least  thirty  feet ; 
not  a  bush,  or  root,  or  even  a  blade  of  grass,  to  hang 
on  by." 

"  If  you  couldn't  climb  up,'^  said  the  Governor, 
"  it  wouldn't  be  for  want  of  legs,  for  yours  are  long 
enough." 

"  My  legs  are  just  the  kind  that  are  needed  in  this 
region,"  I  replied,  not  at  all  annoyed  at  the  laugh 
that  was  raised  at  my  fivn»^n>jft 


ON  THE  LAKE   ROAD.  69 

We  had  now  reached  the  foot  of  Cedar  Hill,  and 
here  a  sluice  dam  had  been  thrown  across  Black 
Brook  to  raise  the  water  sufficiently  high  in  the 
spring  to  run  logs  down  the  stream,  for  in  some 
winters  there  is  lumbering  done  in  this  vicinity. 
From  this  dam  to  the  Arm  it  is  four  miles. 

A  few  rods  beyond  is  the  gate  of  the  notch  where 
Sawyer  and  Blue  Mountains  come  so  near  together 
that  there  is  only  room  between  them  for  the  road, 
and  the  rock  had  to  be  blown  away  in  some  places 
to  make  that. 

Near  here  also  is  the  celebrated  Cold  Spring, 
where  the  coolest  of  water  bubbles  up  through  the 
whitest  of  sand,  from  under  an  immense  boulder,  on 
the  right-hand  side  of  the  road,  as  you  go  in  to  the 
lakes.  We  all  took  a  drink  at  this  sparkling  fountain, 
and  found  the  water  delicious. 

Continuing  on  a  short  distance  farther,  we  reached 
the  Devil's'  Turnpike,  a  short  piece  of  rough,  rocky 
road. 

"  Scribbler,"  said  the  Governor,  as  we  bumped 
along,  "  I  believe  you  coaxed  me  down  here  to  kill 
me  J  "  and  as  he  was  rolled  from  side  to  side  of  the 
seat,  his  usually  good-natured  face  lengthened  out 
into  one  of  the  most  woe-begone  looking  counte- 
nances I  ever  saw  on  a  human  being. 


70  CAMP   LIFE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

^'  There's  only  three  miles  more  of  it,"  said  Thomas, 
with  a  sly  wink  at  me. 

"  What  I     Stop  the  horses  !     I  am  going  to  walk  !  " 

"  Oh,  sit  still/'  T  replied.  "  Thomas  is  fooling ; 
there  is  only  a  few  rods  more  of  it." 

We  were  soon  over  the  "  Turnpike,"  and  the 
Governor  breathed  more  freely. 

"  See  that  little  patch  of  ground,  Artist  ?  "  I  asked, 
pointing  ofif  to  the  right  of  the  road. 

He  nodded. 

"  Well,  that  is  the  Devil's  Onion-Bed.  Onions  have 
grown  there  for  three  years,  and  no  one  knows  how 
they  first  came  there,  but  it  is  supposed  the  Devil 
raised  them  to  live  on  while  he  built  the  turnpike 
we  have  just  rode  over." 

"  Bumped  over,  you  mean,"  said  the  Governor. 

"  What  a  breath  the  Devil  must  have  had  after 
living  on  onions  so  long  1 "  suggested  the  Pathfinder  j 
at  which  all  laughed. 

"  We've  got  another  con»olation  for  you,"  said 
Thomas  to  the  Governor.  "  In  a  few  moments  more 
we  shall  reach  a  piece  of  road  that  is  corduroyed  for 
half  a  mile,  and  it  will  shake  you  up  lively." 

"  When  we  come  to  it  I  shall  believe  in  pedestri- 
anism,  and  put  my  belief  into  practice." 

"  If  any  of  you  fellows  want  to  shoot,"  said  Thomas, 


ON   THE   LAKE    ROAD.  l  i 

"you  may  find  some  game  between  here  and  the 
Arm.'^ 

"  I'm  ready  if  there  is  anything  to  shoot,"  answered 
the  Artist. 

"  So  am  I/'  added  the  Farmer. 

"Look  out  you  don't  shoot  a  skunk/'  cried  the 
Governor,  with  a  chuckle. 

"  There's  not  many  skunks  about  here,"  remarked 
Thomas. 

"  Plenty  of  hedgehogs,  though,"  said  Hewey. 

•When  we  reached  the  corduroy,  we  all  took  a 
walk,  and  the  Artist  shot  a  hawk,  and  the  Professor 
a  gray  squirrel.  We  tramped  along  until  the  cor- 
duroy was  cleared,  and  then  took  to  the  teams  again. 
When  within  about  two  miles  of  the  Arm  of  the  Lake, 
one  of  the  horses  became  pretty  well  blown  ;  so  we 
all  left  the  teams  again,  and  walked  the  rest  of  the 
way. 

On  reaching  the  old  camp  at  the  Arm,  we  found 
the  water  six  feet  higher  in  the  lake  than  I  had  ever 
seen  it  before,  as  I  had  always  been  to  the  lakes  later 
in  the  season.  It  came  up  nearly  to  the  camp.  For 
some  moments  I  scarcely  knew  the  place.  The 
height  of  the  water  made  everything  look  unnatural, 
and  I  noticed  that  among  the  bushes  a  little  to  the 
left  front  of  the  camp,  where  the  New  York  clubs 


72 


CAMP   LIFE  IN   THE  WILDERNESS. 


had  pitched  their  tents  last  August,  when  my  brother 
and  I  were  down,  boats  were  now  floating  with  their 
keels  clear  of  the  bottom. 


UP  THE  LAKE.  73 


CHAPTER  YI. 

UP  THE  LAKE.  —  FROM  THE  ARM  TO   FRENCH'S  CAMP.  — 
A  MEETING  WITH  FELLOW- VOYAGERS. 

AS  soon  as  the  teams  arrived,  Thomas  stabled  his 
horses,  gave  them  a  feed,  and  then  pointed  out 
the  two  boats  we  were  to  take.  I  picked  out  what  I 
thought  to  be  the  best  one ;  but  if  I  ever  showed  a 
lack  of  judgment  in  my  life,  it  was  when  I  took  that 
boat  for  a  decent  craft,  for  she  turned  out  to  be  as 
crank  as  a  wash-tub,  and  as  hard  to  pull  as  a  mud- 
scow.  Our  friend  McCard,  of  the  Upper  Dam,  has 
since  christened  that  boat  the  "  Rolling  Moses ;  "  and 
if  ever  Tom  hit  the  nail  on  the  head,  it  was  when  he 
named  that  boat. 

We  brought  the  boats  up  to  the  shore  in  front  of 
the  camp,  and  commenced  loading  them  as  rapidly 
as  possible,  it  being  our  intention  to  reach  our 
guide's  camp,  which  was  about  six  miles  from  the 
Arm,  on  the  right-hand  side  of  the  Narrows,  before 
getting  any  meal.     As  we  had  taken  an  early  break- 


74  CAMP   LIFE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

fast,  and  come  off  without  a  luncheon,  the  sooner 
we  reached  the  camp  the  better. 

The  men  who  had  come  in  the  teams  ahead 
of  us,  pushed  off  and  pulled  away,  just  as  we 
commenced  to  load.  They  were  bound  for  the 
Middle  Dam,  Angler's  Retreat.  It  is  over  on  the 
western  shore  of  the  lower  lake,  about  four  miles 
from  the  Arm. 

As  ill  luck  would  have  it,  the  wind  was  dead 
ahead  and  blew  strong,  which  is  generally  the  case 
when  one  wishes  to  pull  up  the  lakes ;  and  Thomas 
cheered  us  with  the  information  that  "he  guessed 
we'd  have  to  do  some  smart  pulling  before  we 
reached  the  camp." 

Now,  instead  of  having  to  pull  with  might  and 
main  against  the  heavy  north-west  winds  that  blow 
down  the  lake,  sportsmen  can  take  the  jaunty  little 
steamer  Welokenebacook,  and  make  the  run  from 
the  Arm  to  the  Upper  Dam  in  an  hour  and  a  half. 
ThisjDoat  was  put  on  the  lakes  in  the  summer  of 
1876,  and  makes  daily  trips  up  and  down  the  lake, 
touching  at  all  points,  through  the  summer. 

In  an  hour  \ve  had  loaded  the  boats  and  placed 
ourselves  in  them.  The  Governor,  the  Artist,  th*^ 
Farmer,  the  Professor,  and  myself,  going  in  the 
"  Rolling  Moses,"  and  Mozart,  Sportsman,  the  Path- 


<o 


finder,  and  the  Guide,  in  the  larger  one,  which  we 
had  christened  the  "  Dancing  Sally." 

As  we  pulled  out  from  the  shore  and  headed  up 
the  lake,  our  drivers  sang  out  "  good  luck  I  ■' after 
us,  and  we  gave  a  cheer  and  then  bent  to  our  oars. 
The  Guide's  boat  took  the  lead,  and  ours  followed. 
The  fellows  who  pulled  had  to  throw  the  muscle 
right  into  their  strokes,  the  boats  were  so  heavily 
loaded.  However,  we  bent  manfully  to  our  oars, 
and  made  headway  slowly  in  spite  of  the  wind,  which 
we  found  blew  very  heavy,  as  we  worked  out  into 
the  middle  of  the  Arm.  But  we  relieved  each  other 
at  the  ash  every  little  while,  and  so  made  the  best 
use  of  our  strength. 

'*  Those  fellows  are  going  to  beat  us,"  said  the 
Artist,  who,  not  rowing,  was  watching  the  "  Dancing 
Sally.'' 

"  I  should  have  a  poor  opinion  of  them  if  they  did 
not  lead  us,  for  they  are  pulling  four  oars  to  our  two, 
and  the  Guide  will  pull  equal  to  any  two  men  in  our 
party,"  I  replied. 

"  Don't  you  think  we  can  sail.  Scribbler  ?  "  asked 
the  Professor. 

"  I'm  afraid  not,  the  way  the  wind  is.  I  don't 
believe  you  can  beat  this  boat  any." 

"  The  other  one  is  beating  her,"  said  the  Artist. 


76  CAMP  LIFE  IN    THE  WILDERNESS. 

"  Cheap  joke  for  the  Artist !  "  cried  the  Farmer ; 
"  chalk  it  down,  Scribbler." 

"  If  we.  are  going  to  set  the  sail,  we  shall  have 
to  pull  in  to  the  shore,  for  the  boat  rolls  about 
80  in  this  sea  that  she  may  capsize  when  the  mast 
is  stepped.  Give  way  on  your  oars,  fellows,"  I 
cried  to  the  Farmer  and  the  Professor,  who  were 
rowing,  "  and  I  will  slant  in  to  that  old  cedar  on  the 
port  bow." 

In  a  few  moments  more  we  had  hold  of  the  cedar. 
We  stepped  the  mast,  unfurled  the  sail,  and  hauled 
the  sheet  aft. 

"  Let  her  go  !  "  I  cried,  as  the  sail  filled,  and  we 
stood  out  to  the  middle  of  the  Arm  again. 

"  Ha,  ha  I "  exclaimed  the  Farmer  ;  "  the  Guide  is 
following  suit.  There  goes  the  sail  on  the  other 
boat  I " 

We  made  three  or  four  tacks ;  but  the  boat  slid 
off,  so  we  did  not  make  any  progress  towards  the 
head  of  the  lake,  and  finally  we  pulled  for  the  shore 
again,  furled  the  sail,  and  took  down  the  mast. 
Then  we  headed  straight  up  the  lake  and  bent  to 
the  oars  again.  We  were  disgusted  with  our  trial 
of  sailing.  One  might  as  well  try  to  crawl  to  the 
top  of  Bunker  Hill  Monument  from  the  outside  as 
try  to  beat  the  ''  Rolling  Moses  "  to  windward. 

''I'll  be  hanged  if  the  boat  don't  leak  like  a  sieve," 


PROM  THE  ARM  TO  FRENCHES  CAMP.       77 

said  the  Farmer,  calling  my  attention  to  a  fact  which 
1  had  noticed  some  time  before. 

"  Well,  *  trust  in  the  Lord,  and  keep  your  powder 
dry/  and  we'll  get  through  all  right,"  replied  the 
Professor. 

*'  Look  out  for  the  guns !."  I  cautioned  ;  "  and  if 
any  one  can  find  the  bailing-dish,  pass  it  to  me,  and 
I  will  try  to  get  a  little  of  the  water  out  of  the 
boat." 

"  You'll  go  bail  for  the  whole  of  us,  will  you  ?  " 
asked  the  Governor. 

"  Cheap  joke  for  the  Governor,"  said  the  Farmer ; 
"  scratch  it  down,  Scribbler." 

We  were  now  about  half-way  between  Bailey's 
Point  and  Pine  Island.  Steering  and  bailing  at  the 
same  time,  I  did  not  get  out  a  great  deal  of  water, 
and  I  accordingly  headed  for  the  island,  where  we 
landed.  Here  we  partly  unloaded  the  boat,  so  as 
to  get  a  better  chance  at  the  water,  and  then  bailed 
her  out  thoroughly. 

Just  as  we  pulled  out  from  the  island,  we  saw  the 
other  boat  disappearing  around  Hardscrabble. 

"  They  will  get  up  to  camp  an  hour  ahead  of  us," 
I  remarked  to  the  Artist. 

"  Yes,  I  should  think  they  would." 

"  I  wish  I  was  in  the  other  boat,"  said  the  Pro- 
fessor, with  a  dismal  groan. 


78  CAMP  LIFE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

"  You  might  be  capsized  if  yon  were,"  I  replied. 

"  If  the  Professor  gets  into  the  lake,  he's  all 
right,"  said  the  Governor ;  ''  that  musket  of  his  will 
float  him." 

"  Where  to  ?  —  the  bottom  ?  "  queried  the  Artist. 

"  Come,  Scribbler,  I'll  change  places  with  you," 
said  the  Governor,  who  was  tugging  at  one  of  the 
oars  and  blowing  like  a  porpoise.  "  I  guess  I  can 
steer  this  craft." 

"  Certainly  I'll  change  with  you,"  I  remarked, 
laughing  to  see  the  sweat  roll  down  his  face. 

"  I  wish  some  one  would  change  with  me,"  said 
the  Professor,  who  looked  disgusted ;  and  it  was 
evident  that  rowing  did  not  agree  with  his  con- 
stitution. 

"  I'll  spell  you,"  volunteered  the  Farmer.  "  It 
takes  Scribbler  and  I  to  walk  this  boat  along." 

We  were  now  in  a  rough  sea  off"  Hardscrabble, 
the  hardest  point  in  the  lake  to  pass  in  a  north-west 
wind.  But  the  Farmer  and  I  pulled  a  long,  steady 
stroke,  and  kept  very  good  time;  and  we  soon  began 
to  double  on  old  Hardscrabble,  and  the  Governor 
laid  our  course  for  Portland  Point,  at  the  mouth  of 
the  Narrows,  which  the  '*  Dancing  Sally  "  had  just 
reached. 

The  day  was  warm  and  pleasant,  and  as  we  bent 
to  the  oars  the  perspiration  ran  down  our  faces  in 


PROM  THE  ARM  TO   FRENCH'S   CAMP.  79 

great  drops.  But  we  had  our  backs  up,  and  the 
"  Rolling  Moses  "  was  sent  through  the  water  at  a 
pretty  fair  rate  of  speed.  But  by  the  time  we  were 
half-way  from  Hardscrabble  to  the  mouth  of  the 
Narrows,  the  other  boat  had  disappeared  from 
sight. 

The  scenery  now  engrossed  the  attention  of  the 
other  gentlemen  in  the  boat,  who  were  making  their 
first  visit  to  the  lakes,  and  for  some  time  I  was  kept 
busy  answering  their  questions.  Then  a  long  spell 
of  silence  ensued,  broken  at  last  by  the  Artist,  who 
sang  out  to  the  Professor : 

"  Come,  throw  that  King's  Arm  overboard :  we 
never  shall  make  any  headway  while  we  have  that 
to  carry.'' 

"  Let  the  Professor  alone,"  I  cried.  "  He  bought 
that  musket  down  in  Portland  Street,  and  paid  a 
dollar  for  it,  and  you  can't  expect  him  to  sacri- 
fice it."       . 

"  No,"  said  the  Farmer ;  "  he  wants  it  to  shoot 
bears  with  when  we  get  up  to  camp." 

"  Gentlemen,"  I  remarked,  after  another  short  lull 
in  the  conversation,  "  I  am  beginning  to  feel 
hungry." 

•You'll  starve  if  we  don't  get  something  to  eat 
soon,"  said  the  Governor.    ''It's  nearly  five  o'clock." 


80  CAMP  LIFE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

**  Let's  go  on  shore  and  have  a  lunch,"  suggested 
the  Professor. 

"  A  good  idea,"  chimed  in  the  Farmer. 

^•'  Splendid  I  "  I  added  :  "  but  all  the  provisions  are 
in  the  other  boat." 

"  Well,  that  is  a  healthy  idea ! "  ejaculated  the 
Artist. 

"How  far  are  we  from  French's  Camp  now?" 
asked  the  Governor. 

"  Only  a  short  distance,"  I  replied.  "  We  are  just 
entering  the  Narrows." 

"  Boat  ahead  !  "  shouted  the  Artist,  who  was  in 
the  bow. 

"  That  is  some  of  our  party.  They  are  out 
fishing." 

"  What  can  they  catch.  Scribbler  ?  " 

"  In  that  place,  chub  certainly,  and  possibly 
trout." 

We  were  soon  near  enough  to  hail  them,  and  found 
that  Mozart  and  the  Pathfinder  were  in  the  boat, 
fishing. 

"  What  luck?"  bawled  the  Farmer. 

"  Plenty  of  chub,"  replied  Mozart,  "  but  not  a 
single  trout." 

We  pulled  in  to  the  landing,  and  made  fast  to  a 
tree;    and  I  concluded  that  our  party  must  have 


A  MEETING  WITH  FELLOW- VOYAGERS.  81 

Visitors,  as  I  noticed  two  Indian  rock-boats  at  the 
landing. 

All  along  the  shore  it  looked  strange  and  unfa- 
miliar, the  water  was  so  much  higher  than  I  had 
ever  seen  it  before.  The  water  was  clear  up  in 
the  bushes,  which  made  it  difficult  to  land. 

Looking  up  just  then,  I  saw  two  gentlemen  com- 
ing down  the  path  to  the  boats.  They  turned  out 
to  be  Boston  men,  brothers,  with  one  of  whom  the 
Artist  was  acquainted. 

We  exchanged  greetings  with  them,  and  the  Artist 
asked  them  how  the  fishing  was.  They  reported  it 
to  be  first-rate  at  the  Upper  Dam ;  and  on  further 
talk,  finding  that  we  had  no  trout  except  the  five 
small  ones  caught  at  Black  Brook,  they  presented  us 
with  a  dozen  nice  ones.  They  were  on  their  way  to 
the  Middle  Dam,  and  were,  going  to  try  the  fishing 
there  a  spell.  They  stepped  into  their  boats,  and 
their  guides  pulled  oflf  down  the  lake.  After  they 
had  gone,  the  Artist  told  us  that  they  visited  the 
lakes  every  year.  A  few  moments  after  they  had 
left  us,  the   Guide  came  down  to  the  landing. 

"  Well,  gentlemen,  youVe  arrived,'^  he  said,  as  he 
reached  our  boat. 

"  Yes,  we  have,"  I  replied ;  "  and  if  we  had  not 
stopped  to  shoot  a  bear  we  saw  swimming  across 
the  lake,  we  should  have  been  here  ahead  of  you." 
6 


82  CAMP  LIFE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

"  What  did  you  do  with  your  bear,  Mr.  Scrib- 
bler?" 

*'  Oh,  the  Artist  tried  to  pull  him  into  the  boat, 
but  the  animal  was  so  heavy,  he  dropped  him,  and 
he  sank." 

"  Ha,  ha,  ha ! "  roared  Mozart ;  "  what  a  yarn  1 
That  won't  go  down  in  this  crowd." 

"  Well,  I'll  tell  you  what  we  have  caught,"  said 
the  Artist,  as  he  looked  at  the  Guide,  "  and  that  is,  a 
nice  string  of  trout ; "  and  he  held  up  two  or  three 
of  the  largest  that  his  friends  had  so  kindly  pre- 
sented him  with. 

"  Those  fellows  will  make  a  nice  fry :  but  we  had 
better  get  these  things  up  to  camp." 

"  Where  is  your  camp  ?  I  don't  see  it,"  said  the 
Professor. 

"You  can't  from  here.  It  is  just  over  the  top 
of  that  ridge  you  can  see ;  "  and  he  pointed  up  the 
path. 

All  hands  took  hold,  and  we  carried  up  hard-tack, 
potatoes,  fish,  salt  pork,  tea,  coffee,  &c.,  and  our 
blankets  and  hammocks. 

There  were  several  berths  in  the  camp,  and  it 
was  unnecessary  to  pitch  the  tent. 

I  had  never  been  on  shore  at  this  particular 
spot  before.  Taking  as  many  things  as  I  could 
carry,  I  staggered  up  the  hill,  and  found  the  camp 


A   MEETING   WITH   FELLOW-VOYAGERS. 


83 


lay  on  the  further  side  of  the  ridge,  down  in 
a  little  wooded  dell,  and  was  very  prettily  situ- 
ated. It  consisted  of  two  log  cabins,  one  of 
which  was  used  to  cook  in,  and  tbe  other  for 
eating  and  sleeping.  A  dozen  persons  could  have 
been  very  comfortably  accommodated  in  the  camp. 


84  CAMP  LIFE  IN  THE   WILDERNESS. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

OUR  FIRST  MEAL  IN  CAMP.  —  ''  WHERE  IS  MY   VALISE  ?  " 

WHEN  I  reached  *'  our  hotel,"  —  as  some  of  the 
party  called  it,  —  I  found  a  fire  burning  in 
the  stove ;  and  it  was  not  many  minutes  before  some 
of  the  trout  mentioned  in  the  preceding  chapter 
were  frying,  the  coflfee  boiling,  and  the  fellows 
standing  around  with  their  mouths  watering,  in 
anticipation  of  the  coming  feast. 

It  took  the  Guide,  with  our  assistance,  -^  for  each 
one  did  what  he  could,  —  about  half  an  hour  to  get 
supper  ready,  and  it  was  about  six  o'clock  when 
we  sat  down  to  the  table. 

The  spirit  of  satisfaction  that  pervaded  my 
whole  being  when  I  sat  down  to  the  table,  and  as 
a  sort  of  preparatory  move  took  a  sniff  of  the 
splendid  aroma  of  the  coflfee  and  the  delicious  trout, 
which,  brown  and  smoking,  lay  on  the  platter, 
flanked  by  two  large  plates  of  fried  potatoes,  comes 
back  to  me  now  as  I  write  of  it.     For,  remember, 


OUR   FIRST   MEAL   IN   CAMP.  85 

dear  reader,  that  we  had  been  without  food  since 
breakfast-time,  —  an  early  breakfast  at  that,  —  and 
that  we  had  been  shaken  and  jolted,  had  walked 
several  miles,  and  tugged  at  the  '^  weary  oar,"  as 
the  Professor  expressed  it,  for  nearly  six  hours  in 
succession ;  and  now  the  labor  was  all  over,  the 
silver  lining  had  appeared  in  our  cloud,  and  we  were 
seated  before  a  repast  that  would  put  to  shame  any 
meal  that  you  ever  ate  in  the  city. 

Few  and  short  were  the  preliminary  remarks,  I 
assure  you;  and  with  an  unspoken  blessing,  each 
one  seized  knife,  spoon,  or  fork,  whichever  came 
handiest,  and  —  to  use  a  well-pointed  phrase  — 
"  pitched  in." 

For  a  few  moments  all  you  could  hear  was,  "  Pass 
the  trout,  please ; "  "  I'll  thank  you  for  a  cup  of 
coffee  ; "  "  Don't  eat  all  those  fried  potatoes,  your 
uncle  wants  some ;  "  "  Pass  that  condensed  milk,  you 
sardine  ;  " ""  Pray,  Scribbler,  stop  eating  long  enough 
to  pass  me  the  sugar,  can't  you  ?  "  "Here,  Mozart, 
have  a  pickle  ;  "  "Another  cup  of  coffee,  Guide;  "  and 
similar  remarks  that  are  very  apt  to  be  made  under 
like  circumstances  ;  and  then  all  of  this  jargon  was 
followed  by  the  munch  and  crunch  of  eight  pairs 
of  hungry  jaws,  and  the  poor  Guide  was  kept  danc- 
ing about  like  a  live  hen  in  a  hot  oven. 

As  he  came  up  to  the  table,  with  the  second  pot- 


CO  CAMP  LIFE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

ful  of  coffee,  after  the  sharp  edge  had  been  taken 
off  of  our  appetites,  he  exclaimed,  as  he  wiped  the 
sweat  from  his  brow  : 

"  You  are  the  best  set  of  feeders  I  ever  saw.  If 
they  have  many  more  like  you  in  Boston,  I  should 
hate  to  live  there.     I  should  be  afraid  of  starving." 

Then  the  Governor,  that  jolly  old  fellow,  chuckled 
and  roared. 

Then  we  all  roared. 

Then  the  Governor  left  the  rest  of  us  at  the  table, 
and  tried  to  stuff  it  into  the  Guide  that  he  hadn't 
eaten  anything. 

But  the  Guide  seemed  hard  to  be  convinced, 
more  especially  as  just  at  that  moment  the  Gov- 
ernor stumbled  over  Spot,  and  the  Artist  declared 
that  he  was  so  full  that  he  couldn't  stand. 

But  we  could  not  eat  forever,  even  at  such  a  feast 
as  that ;  and  as  we  became  satisfied,  one  after 
another  arose  from  the  table. 

The  Farmer  cried  because  there  was  no  more 
trout.  He  had  eaten  six  pounds  only,  and  the  Gov- 
ernor told  him  he  would  have  to  pay  for  two  men's 
rations. 

While  the  Guide  was  eating  his  supper,  we  went 
out  and  sat  down  on  the  grass  near  the  cabin,  and 
smoked,  and  chatted,  and  watched  the  sun  as  it 
sank  in  the  west  behind  the  tall  trees.    The  evening 


"WHERE  IS  MY  VALISE?"  87 

fihadows  stole  gently  about  us,  and  some  one  sug- 
gested that  we  should  build  a  large  camp-fire  to 
make  it  look  a  little  more  cheerful.  Just  then  the 
Artist  sang  out : 

"  Who  has  seen  my  valise  ? '' 

No  one  answered. 

"  Don't  all  speak  at  once/'  he  remarked. 

"  I  guess  it  is  down  in  your  boat,"  suggested  the 
Guide,  as  he  joined  us  with  his  pipe. 

"  Run  down  and  see,  Artist ;  my  revolver  is  in  it." 

"  So  it  is,  Scribbler ;  and  if  the  valise  is  gone, 
your  revolver  is  gone  too." 

"  I  suppose  you  will  buy  me  a  new  one  in  that 
case  ?  " 

*'  Do  you  see  anything  green  in  my  eye  ?  " 

"  Not  in  your  eye,  particularly ;  but  there  is  a 
general  predominance  of  that  color  all 'over  your 
body." 

"  Well,  I  "am  going  down  to  the  boat,  and  see  if 
I  can  find  it ; "  and  away  he  went. 

"Is  there  any  game  about  here  ?  "  asked  the  Gov- 
ernor. 

"  Yes,  several  kinds,"  replied  the  Guide.  "  I  guess 
you'll  see  something  in  the  morning." 

"  If  I  do,  I'll  make  an^ddition  to  our  larder." 

"  Who's  the  larder  ?  "  asked  the  Farmer.  "  Scrib- 
bler?" 


88  CAMP  LIFE   IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

"  No ;  be  is  the  one  that  makes  the  hole  in  it," 
answered  the  Governor. 

"  What  did  you  build  this  camp  here  for,  Guide  ?  " 
asked  the  Pathfinder. 

"  We  wanted  it  to  stop  in  when  we  come  up 
fishing  in  the  winter.  Mr.  French,  at  Andover,  owns 
part  of  it." 

^^  I  should  think  you  would  freeze  to  death  here 
in  winter." 

"  Oh,  no ;  we  have  plenty  of  wood,  and  keep  up 
a  good  fire." 

"  Do  you  catch  any  large  trout  here  in  winter  ?  " 
Asked  the  Farmer. 

"  Yes,  sometimes.  Last  winter  we  caught  some 
pretty  heavy  ones.  The  largest  we  caught  weighed 
twelve  pounds." 

"  That  was  a  whapper,"  said  the  Governor. 

"  The  fish,  or  the  story  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  None  of  your  cheap  jokes,"  remarked  Sportsman. 

"  In  the  camp  where  you  eat  you  will  find  the 
size  of  the  fish  marked  out  on  the  side  of  the 
building." 

"  How  long  do  you  stay  up  here  ?  "  I  inquired. 

"  Three  or  four  weeks,  generally." 

"  Has  anybody  seen  my  black  pants  ? "  queried 
the  Professor,  who  had  been  for  the  last  five  minutes 
poking  around  among  the  luggage. 


"WHERE  IS  MY  VALISE?"  89 

No  one  had  seen  them. 

"  I  must  have  left  them  at  the  Andover  House, 
then." 

^'  No  matter,"  I  replied  ;  "  you  will  find  them  all 
right  on  our  return  to  Andover." 

"  Well,  fellows,  my  valise  is  not  to  be  found,"  said 
the  Artist,  who  had  just  returned  from  the  landing. 

"  You  must  have  left  it  on  that  island,  where  we 
bailed  out  the  boat,"  suggested  the  Farmer. 

"  Or,  more  likely,  it  fell  overboard,  and  went  to  the 
bottom  of  the  lake,"  put  in  the  Governor. 

"  I'll  wager  a  new  hat  with  you  that  it  is  on  the 
island,"  I  said,  *<  for  I  saw  it  on  a  log  while  I  was 
bailing  out  the  boat." 

"  Chance  for  the  Artist  to  take  a  little  exercise," 
suggested  the  Pathfinder  with  a  grin  ;  *'  that  island 
isn't  more  than  four  miles  below  here." 

The  Artist  looked  a  little  dubious. 

"  I  tell  you"  what  it  is,"  I  said  to  him,  jumping  up, 
''  there  will  be  no  time  to  look  after  that  valise  in 
the  morning,  and  I  think  you  had  better  take  one 
of  the  boats  and  pull  down  there  at  once,  and  see 
if  you  can  find  it  before  dark.  It  is  going  to  be  a 
dark  night,  and  the  sooner  you  start  the  better. 
I  will  go  with  you  for  one." 

Mozart  and  the  Professor  volunteered  to  accom- 
pany us,  and  without  further  talk  we  started. 


90  CAMP  LIFE  IN  THE   WILDERNESS. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

A  HUNT  FOR  THE  MISSING  VALISE.  —  A  MYSTERY.  —  IS  IT 
A  GHOST  ?  —  THE  VALISE  FOUND.  —  THE  RETURN  TO 
CAMP.  —  A   DARK  LANDING. 

REACHING  the  landing,  we  jumped  into  the 
"  Rolling  Moses  ;  "  Mozart  and  the  Artist  took 
the  oars,  and  I  seated  myself  at  the  helm. 

"Now,  gentlemen,  you  will  have  to  pull  a  good 
strong  stroke,  for  it  will  soon  be  dark,  and  we 
couldn't  find  the  valise  after  dark,  if  it  is  there." 

"  Why  didn't  you  bring  the  sail.  Scribbler  ?  the 
WMnd  is  fair,"  asked  the  Professor. 

"  I  didn't  think  of  it ;  and  besides,  there  is  not  a 
great  deal  of  wind,  and  coming  back  the  sail  would 
only  be  in  the  way." 

"  I  feel  just  like  rowing,"  said  Mozart ;  "  that 
supper  has  gone  to  the  right  spot.'^ 

"  Pull  away  then,  my  hearty,  and  get  us  there 
before  dark." 

"  Mozart   and   I   will   pull   down,"   proposed   the 


A   HUNT   FOR   THE  MISSING   VALISE.  91 

Artist ;    ^'  and    you    and    the    Professor    can    pull 
back.'' 

"  All  right ! "  exclaimed  the  Professor,  as  he 
stretched  out  on  a  thwart,  and  lighted  his  pipe.  Just 
then  we  canted  the  boat  down  to  starboard,  and  the 
Professor's  arm,  which  was  lying  on  the  gunwale, 
rolled  off  into  the  water.  He  pulled  in  his  arm,  with 
the  water  dripping  from  his  sleeve,  and  wanted  to 
know  if  that  was  a  joke.  He  thought  if  it  was,  he 
didn't  want  any  more  of  them. 

"  What  lake  did  you  say  this  was,  Scribbler  ? " 
asked  the  Artist,  who  sat  near  me. 

"  Welokenebacook,  also  known  as  the  Lower  Rich- 
ardson Lake." 

"  What  jaw-breakers  these  old  Indian  names  are," 
said  the  Professor,  who  was  puflSng  away  diligently 
at  his  pipe. 

'<  I  should  hate  to  pronounce  them  many  times  a 
day,"  declared  Mozart. 

The  boys  pulled  a  pretty  good  stroke,  and  the 
boat  w^alked  along  lively,  not  being  near  so  heavily 
loaded  as  iu  the  afternoon. 

The  sun  had  set,  and  the  air  was  damp  from  the 
falling  dew.  The  line  of  the  shore  was  becoming 
indistinct,  and  I  was  afraid  darkness  w^ould  overtake 
us  before  we  reached  the  island.  There  was  just 
wind  enough  to  ripple  the  water,  and  if  it  had  only 


92  CAMP  LIFE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

been  a  moonlight  evening,  I  should  not  have  wished 
to  hurry. 

We  had  almost  reached  the  island,  when  all  at 
once  we  heard  a  peculiar  sound  ahead  of  us,  and  the 
gentlemen  stopped  rowing. 

"  What  is  that  noise  ?  "  asked  the  Artist. 

"  Something  on  the  island,"  I  said. 

It  had  stopped  while  we  were  talking. 

"  There  it  is  again,''  said  Mozart,  as  the  mysterious 
sound  floated  out  to  us  through  the  dusky  twilight. 

"  It  is  some  kind  of  a  wild  animal,"  said  the  Artist; 
and  he  took  his  gun  and  put  on  fresh  caps. 

"  A  bear,  perhaps,"  ventured  the  Professor. 

By  the  dim  light  in  which  we  were  approaching 
the  island,  it  seemed  to  have  increased  to  twice  its 
natural  size.  It  was  completely  covered  with  trees, 
—  mostly  white  birch  and  underbrush,  —  while  near 
the  centre  of  the  northern  end,  from  the  highest 
point,  two  old  dead  pines,  shorn  of  branches  except 
two  or  three  at  the  top,  towered  up  to  a  height  of 
sixty  or  seventy  feet,  looking  down  with  scorn  upon 
the  younger  growth  beneath  them.  They  appeared 
very  conspicuous,  their  bare  and  ragged  trunks  out- 
lined against  the  dark-blue  of  the  sky,  standing  like 
some  gigantic  sentinels  on  duty ;  they  had  served  me 
as  an  excellent  mark  to  steer  by,  while  coming  down 
from  camp. 


A   MYSTERY.  S3 

The  Professor  had  loaded  his  musket,  which  threw 
a  ball  as  large  as  a  small  cannon,  and  was  already  to 
blaze  away  should  occasion  require. 

The  Artist  placed  his  double-barrel  where  he  could 
reach  it  easily,  and  then  he  and  Mozart  pulled  softly 
and  slowly  towards  the  shore. 

The  mysterious  sounds  still  continued,  and  our 
nerves  had  become  strung  up  to  the  fighting  point; 
BO  we  rather  hoped  we  should  have  an  adventure. 

"  I  saw  something  move,"  asserted  the  Professor. 

"Where?'' 

"  Straight  over  the  bow  of  the  boat." 

"  That's  a  log,"  I  replied,  taking  a  good  look  at  the 
object. 

'*  Perhaps  the  island  is  haunted,"  suggested  the 
Artist ;  "  and  the  spirits  do  not  want  us  to  land  here, 
and  are  making  these  noises  to  frighten  us  away." 

"  I  suppose  they  must  be  Indian  spirits,  then,"  I 
answered;  *lfor  years  ago  there  used  to  be  an  old 
chief  and  his  daughter  living  on  this  island." 

"  You're  joking  ?  " 

"  No.  Positive  fact.  But  I  guess  all  the  spirits 
that  have  been  on  here  of  late  years  were  liquid 
ones." 

During  this  time  I  had  been  watching  the  log  in 
the  water,  and  as  we  neared  the  island,  I  noticed 
that  one  end  was  fast  on  shore,  cauglit  under  the  root 


94  CAMP  LIFE  m  THE  WILDERNESS. 

of  a  tree,  probably,  while  the  other  end  rose  and 
fell  with  the  waves.  This  set  me  to  thinking,  and 
I  had  soon  solved  the  mystery. 

"  It  is  the  log  that  makes  the  noise,"  I  said. 

"  Can't  be,"  returned  the  Artist. 

"  I  tell  you  it  is.  Pull  up  to  it,  and  I  will  con- 
vince you." 

In  a  moment  more  we  were  alongside  of  it, 
and  my  opinion  proved  to  be  wholly  correct. 
The  mysterious  noises  were  made  by  the  motion 
of  the  log  as  it  rose  and  fell  on  the  gently  undu- 
lating waves,  the  end  in  the  lake  being  hollow. 
We  had  a  good  laugh  over  it,  and  then  pulled 
down  to  the  lower  end  of  the  island,  where  we 
had  stopped  in  the  afternoon.  I  jumped  on  shore 
and  found  the  valise  on  the  log,  just  as  I  remem- 
bered seeing  it.  The  Artist  was  pleased  to  recover 
his  property,  and  so  was  I,  for  I  did  not  care  to  lose 
my  revolver. 

We  tumbled  into  the  boat  again  lively,  and  start- 
ed for  camp,  the  Professor  and  I  pulling  back.  We 
voted  to  christen  the  island  "  Spirit  Island,"  in  mem- 
ory of  our  night  trip,  and  it  has  gone  by  that  name 
since.  We  made  good  time  returning,  for  we  knew 
the  rest  of  the  party  were  having  a  good  time  at 
camp,  and  we  wished  to  be  with  them. 

As  we   pulled  back,  I  noticed  the   Middle   Dam 


RETURN  TO  CAMP,  AND  A  DARK  LANDING.    95 

Camp-light,  which  appeared  to  us  like  a  star,  and 
I  remembered  when  it  had  served  as  a  beacon-light 
to  a  party  I  was  with  one  night  several  years  before, 
but  the  story  is  too  long  to  introduce  here. 

It  was  after  eight  o'clock  when  we  arrived  oppo- 
site our  landing,  and  as  dark  as  pitch,  —  so  dark, 
in  fact,  that  we  could  not  see  to  land,  and  had  to 
halloo  until  the  Pathfinder  and  the  Sportsman  came 
down  to  the  shore  with  a  lantern,  when  we  managed 
to  find  our  way  in. 

"Did  you  find  your  valise?"  said  the  Sportsman 
to  the  Artist. 

'*  Yes,  all  right ;  thank  you." 

"What  have  you  been  doing  up  to  the  camp?" 
I  asked. 

"  Oh,  we've  built  a  rousing  big  fire,  and  have 
been  smoking,  and  spinning  yarns,"  answered  the 
Pathfinder. 

"  Halloo,  Spot  I "  I  cried,  as  I  leaped  on  shore ; 
"  did  you  come  to  see  if  your  master  was  all 
right  ?  " 

"  After  you  had  gone,"  remarked  the  Pathfinder, 
"  Spot  came  down  here  and  swam  off  into  the  lake 
after  you ;  and  the  Sportsman  and  I  took  the  other 
boat  and  went  after  him,  and  brought  him  on 
shore." 

"  Good  dog,  Spottie,"  said  the  Artist,  patting  his 


96  CAMP   LIFE  IN  THE   WILDERNESS. 

head ;  "  did  not  want  to  lose  your  master,  did 
you  ?  " 

"  Shows  his  sense  there,"  said  Mozart ;  "  for  no 
one  else  would  bother  with  him  as  the  Scribbler 
does." 

I  confess  to  a  weakness  for  animals,  and  think 
as  much  of  my  dog  as  a  spinster  does  of  her  pet 
cat. 

The  Artist  and  the  Professor  took  their  guns,  and 
after  we  had  hauled  the  boat  up  we  all  went  up 
to  camp. 

We  found  the  fellows  stretched  around  the  camp- 
fire,  enjoying  pipes  and  cigars,  and  laying  plans  for 
the  future.  We  threw  ourselves  down  near  the 
fire,  and,  after  having  a  smoke,  I  swung  my  ham- 
mock between  two  trees,  and  pulling  off  coat,  vest, 
and  boots,  rolled  myself  between  a  pair  of  heavy 
double  blankets,  and  turned  in  for  the  night. 


FIRST   NIGHT   IN  THE  WILDERNESS.  97 


CHAPTER  IX. 

OUR  FIRST  NIGHT  IN  THE  WILDERNESS.  —  SHOOTING  RAB- 
BITS.—  A  HEARTY  BREAKFAST. —  ANOTHER  START. — 
THE  ARTIST  TAKES  AN  IMPROMPTU  BATH.  —  THE  UPPER 
DAM.  —  "CAMP  JAMAICA." 

OUR  first  camp  presented  quite  a  romantic  as- 
pect, and  would  have  made  a  fine  subject  for 
an  artist.  It  was  just  such  a  picture  as  the  pencil 
of  Murillo  would  have  delighted  to  portray.  My 
hammock  was  swung  just  at  the  foot  of  the  ridge 
I  have  before  spoken  of  The  Artist  was  off  to  the 
left  of  me,  flanked  by  the  Pathfinder  and  Mozart. 
The  Governor  had  swung  his  hammock  farther 
down  in  the  dell,  the  other  side  of  the  fire.  The 
Sportsman  and  the  Farmer  had  spread  a  rubber 
blanket  over  some  fragrant  boughs,  and  then  with 
their  woollen  blankets  had  made  up  a  very  com- 
fortable bed  on  the  ground,  somewhat  nearer  the 
fire  than  the  rest  of  us ;  and  the  Professor  and  the 
Guide  were  in  one  of  the  bunks  in  the  cabin. 
7 


98  CAMP  LIFE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

The  fire  was  almost  in  the  centre  of  the  camp, 
and  threw  a  fitful  glare  over  the  whole  scene,  giv- 
ing it  rather  a  weird  look.  Beyond  the  fire-lit  cir- 
cle we  could  discern  the  tali  and  graceful  trunks 
of  the  silent  monarchs  of  the  forest,  many  of  them 
towering  a  hundred  feet  above  the  earth,  forming 
a  dark  and  misty  background  beyond  which  our 
eyes  were  powerless  to  penetrate.  The  view  re- 
minded me  of  paintings  I  had  seen  of  gypsy 
camps,  and  only  needed  a  horse  and  cart  to  make 
the  illusion  perfect. 

My  mind  was  in  harmony  with  our  surroundings, 
and,  for  the  time  being,  I  scarcely  cared  whether 
I  ever  saw  a  city  again  or  not.  The  unmistakable 
charm  of  wood-life  had  inwrapped  me  in  its  man- 
tle ;  and  the  pleasure  of  being  beyond  the  pale  of 
civilization,  as  it  were,  one  can  scarcely  realize 
until  he  has  tried  a  few  weeks  of  camp  life  in 
some  such  wild  place  as  we  were  now  in. 

Outside  the  camp  we  could  hear  the  mournful 
song  of  the  whippoorwill,  blending  in  with  the 
notes  of  the  tree-toads  in  sympathetic  unison,  and 
occasionally,  from  the  direction  of  the  lake,  came 
the  peculiar  cry  of  the  loons,  as  they  swam  about 
in  that  watery  solitude. 

The  camp-fire  burned  lower  and  lower,  the  shad- 
ows grew  more  fantastic  and  ghost-like,  the  gloom 


SHOOTING  RABBITS.  9i) 

deepened,  my  eyelids  grew  heavy,  and  soon  I  be- 
came unconscious  of  all  sounds,  the  last  one  I  remem- 
ber of  hearing  being  the  crackling  of  the  embers  in 
the  fire  ;  and  then  came  sleep. 

It  seemed  to  me  I  had  scarcely  slept  an  hour, 
when  I  was  awakened  by  the  report  of  a  gun  ;  and 
starting  up  in  a  confused  manner,  I  found  it  was 
really  daylight.  I  rose  up  on  my  elbow,  intending 
to  ask  who  had  fired,  when  I  saw  the^  Governor 
stalking  up  to  camp  with  a  good-sized  rabbit. 

Before  I  could  compliment  him  upon  his  success, 
I  heard  another  crack  above  me,  and  a  minute  later 
the  Artist  came  down  over  the  ridge  with  another 
rabbit.  Thus,  before  breakfast,  wo  had  an  excellent 
dinner  provided.  I  congratulated  the  two  hunters  on 
their  successful  shots,  and  turned  out  and  dressed. 
After  washing  I  looked  about  me,  and  found  that  the 
Guide,  the  Professor,  the  Artist,  the  Governor,  and 
myself,  were  all  that  were  up.  We  soon  aroused  the 
four  sleepers,  and  began  to  help  the  Guide  about  the 
breakfast. 

Being  anxious  to  make  an  early  start,  we  rendered 
all  the  assistance  we  could,  and  the  meal  was  soon 
ready.  On  sitting  down  to  breakfast,  we  found  our 
rest  had  not  impaired  our  appetites  at  all,  and  we 
soon  showed  the  Guide  what  kind  of  a  party  he 
had  to  cook  for.     Before  we  sat  down  to  breakfast 


100  CAMP  LIFE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

he  had  remarked  to  me,  in  a  joking  manner,  that 
after  the  supper  we  had  eaten,  he  did  not  sup- 
pose we  should  want  any  breakfast.  But  before 
we  had  finished,  I  guess  he  felt  convinced  to  the 
contrary. 

After  breakfast,  while  the  Guide  was  washing  the 
dishes  and  clearing  up,  we  broke  camp,  and  car- 
ried our  luggage  down  to  the  landing  and  loaded 
the  boats.  The  same  persons  went  in  the  boats 
from  French's  Camp  to  the  Upper  Dam,  that  had 
come  up  from  the  Arm  in  them. 

We  left  the  landing  about  eight  o'clock,  under 
an  ash  breeze,  and  pulled  along  slowly  through  the 
picturesque  Narrows,  enjoying  the  quiet  beauty  of 
the  place,  which,  under  the  enchantments  of  a  glo- 
rious July  morning,  had  never  seemed  more  lovely. 
Just  off  Chub  Point,  which  is  about  half-way  up 
the  Narrows,  a  slight  breeze  sprung  up,  and  I  ran 
the  boat  in  on  the  left-hand  shore.  The  Gover- 
nor caught  at  the  limb  of  a  tree  and  held  the 
boat,  while  the  Farmer  and  the  Professor  stepped 
the  mast  and  unfurled  the  sail. 

Close  to  the  stern  of  the  boat  was  a  large  flat 
rock,  which  rose  up  to  within  four  inches  of  the 
surface  of  the  water,  and  appeared  an  excellent 
place  for  a  person  to  stand  who  did  not  care  for 
wet  feet.     The  bow  of  the  boat  had  grounded  on  a 


r^/Hi^ 


T»E   ARTIST   TAKES   AN   IMPROMPTU   BATH.         101 

shelving  rock  while  we  had  been  setting  the  sail, 
and  the  Artist,  who  had  on  long-legged  rubber 
boots  reaching  clear  to  his  hips,  jumped  out  upon 
the  rock  at  the  stern,  and  pulled  the  bow  of  the 
boat  off. 

The  rock  on  which  he  stood  was  only  a  few  inches 
under  water,  and  of  course  he  did  not  wet  his  feet, 
but  all  around  the  rock  the  water  was  six  or  eight 
feet  deep.  I  thought  the  rock  looked  rather  slippery, 
and  just  as  he  was  telling  us  how  nice  rubber  boots 
were  to  keep  a  man's  feet  dry,  both  feet  slipped  out 
fromv  under  him,  his  body  shot  out  into  the  lake,  and 
he  would  have  gone  all  under,  had  he  not  caught  at 
the  rock  as  he  slipped,  and  held  on  for  dear  life.  As 
it  was,  his  body  floated  out  on  the  water,  and  from 
his  chin  to  his  feet  he  was  soaking  wet. 

How  the  Governor  did  laugh  at  the  Artist's 
unlucky  contretemps  1  and  in  fact  we  all  roared,  as, 
spitting  and  puflSng,  he  climbed  into  the  boat. 

The  first  thing  he  did  was  to  look  after  his  watch 
and  money,  which,  owing  to  the  short  time  he  had 
been  in  the  water,  did  not  receive  any  serious  injury, 
and  the  next  thing  was  to  have  me  pull  off  both  his 
boots,  that  contained  about  a  gallon  of  water  each. 

"  Rubber  boots  are  nice  things  to  keep  your  feet 
dry,"  said  the  Governor,  with  another  roar  of  laugh- 


102  CAMP  LIFE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

ter,  as  1  drew  off  one  boot,  the  water  flowing  out  in 
a  stream. 

"  Oh,  well,"  replied  the  Artist,  who  had  laughed  as 
much  as  any  of  us,  "  mistakes  will  happen  some- 
times." 

"  I  thought  the  Artist  was  diving  for  a  trout,"  said 
the  Professor. 

"  He  missed  the  trout,  and  caught  a  duck,"  I 
returned. 

"  That  is  pretty  good,"  said  the  Governor ;  and  I 
began  to  smile ;  "  for  ^ow,"  he  added ;  and  my  face 
lengthened  again. 

"  The  rest  of  our  party  have  landed,"  remarked 
the  Farmer,  as  our  sail  filled,  and  the  "  Rolling 
Moses"  moved  away  from  the  rock. 

"  That  is  Metalic  Point,"  I  added.  "  They  are 
probably  waiting  for  us,  and  intend  going  up  to  the 
farm  to  our  old  camping-ground." 

"  I  did  not  suppose  there  were  any  farms  about 
here,"  said  the  Professor. 

"  There  are  none  now,"  I  replied ;  **  but  about 
twenty  years  ago  a  man  by  the  name  of  Richardson, 
who  owned  two  or  three  townships  about  here, 
cleared  up  this  place,  and  farmed  it  until  the  land 
was  sold  to  the  lumbering  companies.  The  place, 
however,  has  always  retained  the  name  of  the 
Richardson  Farm." 


THE  UPPER  DAM.  103 

TVe  soon  reached  the  Point,  and  ran  our  boat  up 
on  the  sand. 

*'  How  is  it?  "  1  asked  the  Guide,  as  I  leaped  on 
shore,  "  is  there  any  chance  of  getting  up  to  the 
farm?" 

"  Not  by  the  path,  the  water  is  too  high.  But  it 
is  falh'ng  every  day  now  ;  they  have  lifted  the  gates 
at  the  Middle  Dam,  and  perhaps  when  we  come  back 
the  water  will  be  low  enough  to  enable  us  to  get  up 
there." 

Before  we  left  Metalic  Point,  some  of  the  gentle- 
men took  a  swim.  There  is  a  fine  sand  beach  here, 
and  it  is  an  excellent  place  for  bathing.  When  they 
were  dressed,  we  took  our  places  in  the  boats  again, 
and  pulled  for  the  Upper  Dam,  the  wind  being  so 
light  that  the  sails  were  of  no  use  to  us. 

Half-Moon  Island  and  Ship  Island,  between  which 
we  passed,  were  nearly  covered  with  water,  and 
Gull  Rock"  was  out  of  sight. 

Whitney's  Camp,  situated  at  the  foot  of  Mosquito 
Brook,  on  the  eastern  shore  of  the  lake,  showed  no 
signs  of  life,  and  it  was  evident  from  a  careful 
observation  that  the  camp  was  closed. 

When  we  had  nearly  reached  the  Upper  Dam  land- 
ing, I  hardly  knew  it,  the  appearance  of  the  shore 
was  so  changed  by  the  height  of  the  water.     But 


104  CAMP  LIFE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

there  could  be  no  mistake,  for  there  was  Camp 
Bellevue  right  before  us. 

We  pulled  in  to  the  road,  and  jumping  out, 
fastened  the  boats,  and  then  walked  about  to  stretch 
our  legs  a  little. 

"  Where  shall  we  camp  ?  "  I  asked  of  the  Guide  ; 
"  there  are  a  number  of  good  places  along  the  shore 
here." 

"  I  know  it,"  he  replied ;  "  but  Thomas  told  me 
Thursday  that  Betton's  folks  were  coming  up  on 
Sunday,  and  if  they  do,  it  would  be  better  for  us  to 
be  somewhere  else." 

"  We  might  go  over  to  the  mouth  of  the  river,"  I 
suggested. 

"  There  is  a  party  camping  there  now." 

"  Well,  what  do  you  propose,  Guide  ?  "  asked  the 
Governor. 

"  I  think  we  had  better  camp  in  the  opening,  near 
the  old  Morrill  Camp.  That  is  not  open  now.  What 
do  you  say,  Mr.  Scribbler?  " 

"  I  think  that  is  a  pretty  place.  The  Portland 
Club  camped  there  two  years  ago.  You  remember 
the  place.  Sportsman  ?  " 

*'  Yes.  It  is  nearly  over  to  the  dam.  It  will  be 
handy  for  those  who  wish  to  fish." 

"  And  there  is  a  nice  spring  of  water  there,  too," 
added  the  Guide. 


CAMP  JAMAICA.  105 

So  it  was  decided  that  we  should  pitch  our  tent, 
and  hang  our  hammocks,  in  the  Boston  Chib  Camp 
opening. 

''  Well,  gentlemen,"  said  the  Guide,  "  if  we  take 
over  a  load  with  us  now,  there  will  be  less  to  carry 
by-and-by." 

Without  further  remark,  the  Guide  put  the  barrel 
of  hard  bread  on  his  shoulders,  and  took  an  axe  in 
his  hand.  I  followed,  staggering  under  two  bushels 
of  potatoes,  a  frying-pan,  and  a  kettle  ;  and  the  other 
fellows  picked  up  whatever  came  handy,  and  joined 
in  the  march. 

A  cart-road  led  from  the  boat-landing  over  to  the 
dam,  passing  to  the  right  of  the  opening  where  we 
intended  to  make  our  abiding-place.  Along  this  we 
trudged,  sweating  under  our  loads,  and  were  glad  to 
reach  the  camp-ground  and  drop  our  burdens.  The 
day  was  excessively  warm,  and  not  a  breath  of  air 
stirring.  - 

It  was  about  five  minutes'  walk  through  the  woods, 
between  the  landing  and  the  Club  Camp.  It  took 
three  trips  to  get  the  things  all  over  ;  and  then  we 
opened  our  blankets,  and  spread  them  out  on  the 
bushes  to  dry,  for  they  had  been  rolled  up  wet  in 
the  morning. 

After  that,  the  Governor  and  I  set  up  the  tent, 
and  the   Guide  cooked   dinner.     The  rabbits  wero 


106  CAMP   LIFE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

done  to  a  turn,  and  again  we  surprised  the  Guide 
with  an  exhibition  of  our  talents  in  the  gastronomic 
line.  After  dinner  the  Artist  and  I  swung  our 
hammocks  under  the  shade  of  the  trees  near  by,  in 
close  proximity  to  each  other,  so  that  we  could  lay 
and  converse  together  after  turning  in  at  night. 

Mozart  and  the  Professor  went  off  and  dug  some 
worms,  to  use  in  fishing,  if  the  trout  would  not  rise 
at  a  fly  J  while  the  Governor  put  the  fishing-tackle  in 
order ;  and  the  Farmer  and  I  loaded  the  guns  ;  and 
thus  we  were  prepared  to  welcome  friends  or  repel 
foes,  and  were  ready  for  any  kind  of  game,  whether 
denizens  of  the  woods,  or  travellers  of  the  air,  or 
even  the  finny  habitues  of  the  restless  waters. 

Our  camp  we  christened  "  Camp  Jamaica '' ;  and 
the  Artist  painted  the  name  on  a  shingle,  and  nailed 
it  to  our  tent. 


CAMP  LIFE.  —  FISH   AND   GAME.  109 


CHAPTER  X. 

CAMP  LIFE.  —  FISH   AND   GAME.  —  TAR   AND   OIL.  — 
AROUND   THE   CAMP-FIRE. 

WE  were  now  in  our  permanent  camp,  pleasantly 
and  agreeably  settled,  and  all  each  one  had  to 
do  was  to  enjoy  himself  as  suited  his  fancy. 

So  this  afternoon  —  it  was  Friday  —  some  of  the 
party  went  down  to  the  dam,  which  was  only  a  few 
rods  beyond  us,  to  try  the  trout,  and  some  went  off 
gunning. 

The  Guide  busied  himself  about  the  camp,  and  I 
lolled  in  my  hammock,  under  the  delightful  shade 
of  the  trees,  and  smoked  and  read  ;  that  is,  read 
what  I  could,  for  1  kept  up  a  running  fire  of  con- 
versation with  the  Guide  all  the  time. 

About  five  o'clock,  the  Artist  and  the  Sportsman 
came  in  with  a  couple  of  rabbits  and  a  squirrel,  and 
then  we  went  over  to  the  dam,  and  found  the 
anglers  just  starting  to  come  to  camp.  They  had 
been  very  successful,  and  had  caught  a  fine  mess 


110  CAMP  LIFE  IN  THE  WILDEENESS. 

of  trout,  some  of  tbem  weighing  three  and  foul 
pounds  each. 

We  all  returned  to  camp,  a  fire  was  started,  and 
it  was  not  long  before  a  number  of  those  trout  were 
sputtering  and  hissing  in  the  frying-pan,  and  filling 
the  air  with  a  delightful  fragrance. 

While  the  Guide  was  cooking  the  supper,  the 
Sportsman  and  myself  went  down  to  the  lake-shore, 
where  we  picked  up  a  number  of  old  boards  and 
boxes,  and  brought  them  to  our  camp,  and  from 
.them  we  extemporized  a  table,  and  seats  sufficient 
for  the  party. 

By  the  time  we  had  finished  building  our  exten- 
sion-table, the  supper  was  ready  to  serve,  and  we 
sat  down  to  it  smoking  hot.  We  found  it  so  palat- 
able that  several  platters  of  trout  were  disposed 
of  almost  instantly,  and  as  the  Guide  brought  the 
last  one,  he  wanted  to  know  "  where  we  put  it  all." 

After  supper  we  made  an  application  of  tar  and 
oil  to  our  faces  and  hands,  to  keep  off  the  flies  if 
they  should  undertake  to  trouble  us ;  and  then  the 
Farmer,  the  Sportsman,  and  I  walked  over  to  the 
Upper  Dam  Camp,  and  made  a  call  on  Professor 
Cummings,  the  clief  de  cuisine,  with  whom  we  were 
acquainted,  having  met  him  before  at  the  Middle 
Dam  Camp,  where  he  formerly  cooked. 

Joseph  was  glad  to  see  us,  and  we  had  quite  a 


AROUND   THE   CAMP-FIRE.  Ill 

chat  with  him.  We  spent  about  an  hour  there,  and 
then  went  back  to  our  camp,  and  found  the  rest  of 
the  party  seated  before  a  rousing  fire,  whose  cheer- 
ful blaze  seemed  to  welcome  us. 

We  joined  our  friends,  picking  up  anything  we 
could  find  for  seats,  and  then  we  had  a  regular  good 
old-fashioned  sing.  The  old  familiar  songs,  that 
crop  out  so  readily  in  such  a  place,  and  whose  words 
and  music,  endeared  to  us  from  childhood,  will 
never  wear  out,  were  sung  with  an  earnestness  that 
made  the  old  woods  ring,  and  frightened  the  night- 
hawks  that  had  been  circling  around  us.  Then 
from  songs  we  went  to  stories ;  and  if  I  should  relate 
all  the  yarns  that  were  spun  around  our  camp-fire, 
while  we  were  camping  at  the  Richardson  Lakes, 
there  would  be  room  in  this  volume  for  nothing 
else,  so  I  will  pass  them. 

"  Well,"  said  the  Farmer,  at  the  close  of  one  of 
the  Guidons  stories,  "  I  wish  we  could  see  a  bear 
here.     I  should  like  to  get  a  shot  at  one." 

"  Bosh  I  "  exclaimed  the  Sportsman.  *'  More  likely 
you  would  run  if  you  saw  a  bear,  just  as  some  fel- 
lows did  that  the  driver  told  me  about,  when  I  rode 
in  to  the  lake  with  him  before." 

"  How  was  that  ?  "  inquired  the  Professor. 

"  I  will  tell  you." 

'*  Good  boy  I  "  said  Mozart. 


112  CAMP  LIFE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

"  You  all  remember  the  brook  that  crosses  the 
Lake  Road  about  two  miles  from  the  Arm?  " 

"  Yes,'^  replied  the  Farmer  ;  "  we  had  a  drink  there 
when  we  came  in  to  the  lakes." 

"  A  few  summers  ago,  according  to  Merrill's  story, 
he  was  bringing  in  a  party  of  New  York  gentlemen 
to  the  lakes.  All  the  way  along  they  did  nothing 
but  brag  about  the  game  they  were  going  to  kill ; 
bears,  deer,  and  wolves  would  not  stand  any  chance 
for  their  life  at  all,  if  they  fell  in  with  this  party  of 
heroes.  When  they  reached  the  brook  I  have  men- 
tioned, two  of  them  left  the  team,  saying  they  would 
walk  ahead  a  little  way,  and  see  if  they  could  not 
get  a  shot  at  some  game.  Then  they  started  off, 
and  in  about  fifteen  minutes  came  back  running  at 
full  speed,  as  frightened  as  if  a  lucivee  was  after 
them.  They  had  thrown  away  their  rifles,  lost  off 
their  hats,  and  when  they  came  to  the  team  they 
were  all  out  of  breath,  and  as  pale  as  ghosts.  Mer- 
rill asked  them  what  the  matter  was,  and  found 
out  that  they  had  seen  a  large  black  bear  advancing 
towards  them,  and  they  became  so  frightened  that 
they  never  thought  of  firing  at  the  brute,  but  threw 
away  their  rifles,  and  sought  safety  in  flight." 

"How  the  Scribbler's  long  legs  would  have 
stretched  out,  if  he  had  been  one  of  that  crowd  I " 
said  the  Governor.  • 


AROUND   THE   CAMP-FIRE.  113 

"  Keep  that  old  humbug  quiet,  can't  you  ?  • '  I  said 
to  the  Artist,  who  sat  beside  him,  "  and  let  Sports- 
man finish  the  story." 

The  last-named  individual  then  continued  : 

"  The  rest  of  their  party  laughed  at  them  well, 
and  when  the  team  reached  the  place  where  the 
bear  had  been  seen,  Merrill  stopped  it,  and  they 
skirmished  about  for  a  short  distance,  found  the 
bear,  and  Merrill  shot  it.  Frank  said,  those  two 
fellows  never  heard  the  last  of  that  bear.  Their 
rifles  were  found  where  they  had  dropped  them, 
and  were  both  loaded." 

"  I  would  like  to  have  been  there  when  they 
dropped  those  rifles,"  said  the  Professor.  "  I  would 
have  picked  one  up  and  shot  the  bear  myself." 

*^  Perhaps  you  would,"  answered  the  Sportsman, 
"  but  I  don't  believe  it." 

"  Before  we  go  back,  perhaps  some  of  you  will 
see  a  bear,"  suggested  the  Guide. 

"  I  don't  care  to  see  one,"  observed  Mozart,  "  un- 
less he's  dead." 

The  conversation  now  flagged,  for  we  were  all 
rather  tired  and  disposed  to  sleep.  Yawning,  we 
arose,  leaving  the  fire  to  burn  itself  out,  and  turned 
in,  part  in  their  hammocks,  and  the  others  in  the 
tent.  We  could  hear  the  rush  of  water  as  it  poured 
through  the  dam,  but  the  sound  did  not  disturb  us. 
8 


114  CAMP  LIFE   IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 


CHAPTER   XL 

MORNING  THOUGHTS.  —  LUCKY  FISHERMEN.  —  A  NEIGH- 
BORLY  CALL.  — A  TOUGH  NIGHT.  —  THE  CAMP  STORMED 
BY  MIDGES. 

NOTPlINGr  occurred  to  disturb  our  sleep  that 
night,  and  we  all  awoke  refreshed  and  rested 
on  Saturday  morning,  and  glad  to  find  another  pleas- 
ant day.  I  could  not  help  thinking,  as  I  lay  awake 
in  my  hammock  that  morning,  looking  up  into 
ethereal  space,  how  many  advantages  this  out-of- 
door  life  in  the  woods  has  over  that  in  a  fashionable 
hotel  at  the  beaches  or  mountains,  in  the  matter  of 
real  pleasure  alone.  It  is  so  delightful  to  wake  up 
at  dawn,  and  find  one's  self  drinking  in  the  cool, 
fresh,  invigorating  air  of  the  mountains ;  to  open 
eyes  upon  green  trees  and  mossy  rocks  ;  to  have  the 
first  sounds  w^hich  greet  the  half-conscious  ear  be 
the  joyous  carolling  of  the  feathered  songsters,  as 
they  pour  forth  their  whole  souls  in  a  paBan  of  praise 
to  the  bountiful  Giver  of  all  good,  and  the  musical 


LUCKY   FISHERMEN.  115 

murmur  of  the  ever-restless  stream  as  it  hurries  on 
its  long  journey  to  the  ocean.  Everything  seems  so 
sweet,  and  happy,  and  peaceful,  that  one  cannot  but 
lie  still  for  a  while  in  a  kind  of  delicious  trance,  till 
the  sky  overhead  brightens  into  a  deeper  blue,  and 
the  morning  sun,  winged  messenger  of  day,  pours  a 
flood  of  golden  light  over  the  fragrant  tree-tops, 
warning  one  that  it  is  time  to  be  up  and  stirring. 

When  I  arose  I  found  the  camp  deserted,  with  the 
exception  of  Spot  and  myself.  And  after  washing,  I 
strolled  down  to  the  dam,  and  found  the  Professor, 
the  Pathfinder,  Mozart,  and  the  Farmer  fishing  near 
the  sluice.  I  asked  after  the  others,  and  learned  that 
the  Governor  and  our  Guide  had  gone  up  to  Trout 
Cove  to  try  their  luck,  and  that  Sportsman  and  the 
Artist  had  gone  gunning.  I  accordingly  went  back 
to  the  camp,  and,  with  a  desire  to  make  myself 
useful,  built  the  fire,  filled  and  put  on  the  tea-kettle, 
and  sat  dpwn  to  peel  and  slice  potatoes. 

Soon  the  Artist  and  the  Sportsman  came  along, 
bringing  with  them  a  couple  of  rabbits. 

"  Where  did  you  get  those  rabbits  ?  "  I  inquired 
of  the  Sportsman. 

*'  Over  towards  the  lake-shore.  Where  are  the 
rest  of  the  party  ?  " 

"  Out  fishing.  But  here  they  come  now,"  I  re- 
marked, as  I  glanced  down  the  road  and  saw  them 


116  CAMP  LIFE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

heading  for  camp,  the  Guide  and  the  Governor  lead- 
ing the  way,  each  with  a  goodly  string  of  trout. 

"  What  luck  with  the  rod,  gentlemen  ?  "  asked  the 
Artist,  as  the  party  drew  nearer. 

*'  First-rate  !  "  said  the  Guide.  "  These  are  what 
I  call  beauties  ;  "  and  he  turned  his  string  of  trout 
round  and  round,  so  that  we  might  obtain  a  good 
look  at  them. 

"  They  are  splendid  I "  acknowledged  the  Artist. 
"  Let's  have  three  or  four  of  them  in  the  frying-pan 
at  once.'^ 

"  Do,"  urged  the  Farmer  j  "  I  am  as  hungry  as  a 
bear." 

It  did  not  take  a  great  while  after  that  to  get 
breakfast  ready,  and  we  sat  down  to  the  table  with 
such  appetites  that  the  trout  soon  disappeared. 

After  breakfast  we  amused  ourselves  in  any  man- 
ner we  thought  best,  until  dinner-time.  This  brought 
us  all  together  again,  and  after  dinner  we  took  the 
boats  and  pulled  around  to  the  mouth  of  the  river, 
to  visit  some  gentlemen  who  were  encamped  near 
the  rapids  that  extend  from  the  Upper  Bam  to  the 
Kichardson  Lake. 

We  had  a  pleasant  visit,  and  enjoyed  it.  The 
gentlemen  had  been  very  lucky  in  fishing,  but  com- 
plained some  of  the  midges.  After  spending  a 
couple  of  hours  witli  them^  we  returned  to  camp. 


A  TOUGH   NIGHT.  117 

Thus  far  we  bad  not  been  troubled  with  midges 
at  all,  but  that  very  night  we  learned  what  they 
were.  After  reaching  our  own  camp,  it  being  too 
early  for  supper,  we  all  went  down  to  the  dam,  fish- 
ing. The  trout  rose  splendidly,  and  we  arrived  at 
camp  so  late  that  it  was  eight  o'clock  before  we  sat 
down  to  supper ;  consequently  we  had  to  light  the 
lantern  to  eat  by,  and  hung  it  up  in  the  centre  of  the 
tent,  over  the  table. 

The  sun  had  set  clear,  and  the  wind  had  gone 
down  with  the  sun.  The  night  was  calm  and  still ; 
not  the  slightest  zephyr  rustled  the  leaves  of  the 
trees  that  stood  about  our  tent.  Within,  sentiment 
had  given  place  to  hunger,  and  each  one  of  us  was 
busy  with  knife  and  fork,  caring  more  just  then  for 
the  dainty  supper  before  us  than  for  anything  else 
in  the  world.  Suddenly  I  became  conscious  of  a 
most  uncomfortable  feeling,  and  noticed  that  my 
bread  and  butter,  and  coiFee,  were  almost  covered 
with  little  black  specks.  On  further  investigation,  I 
noticed  that  my  hands  were  covered  with  the  same 
kind  of  specks,  and  that  a  strong  feeling  to  scratch 
and  rub  was  stealing  over  me.  I  looked  around  the 
table.  Every  man  Jack  of  us  seemed  to  be  sitting 
on  thorns.  Each  one  seemed  to  be  particularly  busy 
just  then  in  wiping  his  face. 

Suddenly  the  Professor  brought  both  hands  up  to 


118  CAMP  LIFE  IN  THE   WILDERNESS. 

his  face,  dropping  his  knife  and  fork  as  if  they  had 
been  hot  potatoes,  and  commenced  rubbing  and 
slapping  with  an  energy  I  had  not  given  him  credit 
for  possessing,  exclaiming  at  the  same  time  in  a 
mournful  tone  : 

"  It  seems  to  me  something  is  biting  me.  Do  the 
rest  of  you  feel  anything  ?  " 

The  comical  look  of  disgust  and  perplexity  that 
filled  his  face,  as  he  drawled  out  the  words,  was  too 
much  for  us,  and  we  roared  with  laughter  until  the 
ground  fairly  seemed  to  shake  beneath  our  feet. 

"  Take  it  easy,  gentlemen,"  cried  the  Guide,  as  he 
swung  his  straw  hat  about  him,  '^  it's  nothing  but 
midges  I  " 

No  doubt  the  Guide  meant  to  comfort  us  when  he 
said  "  take  it  easy,"  but  we  could  not  do  it,  and  the 
rest  of  that  night  we  had  our  hands  full. 

Sleep  was  out  of  the  question. 

I  advocated  a  fire,  and  some  of  the  gentlemen 
built  up  a  large  fire  and  made  a  fearful  smudge,  but 
to  my  surprise  it  did  not  help  the  matter  any.  The 
Guide  crawled  into  the  bushes  and  covered  himself 
up  with  all  the  clothes  he  could  find,  but  they  bit 
through  anything  and  everything.  I  turned  into  my 
hammock,  covered  myself  with  blankets,  and  bound 
my  head  all  up  in  a  long  linen  duster,  preferring  the 
chances  of  being  stifled ;  but  in   five   minutes  the 


THE   CAMP  STORMED   BY   MIDGES.  119 

midges  had  worked  through  all  my  protection,  and 
were  making  the  times  altogether  too  lively  for  me. 
Sportsman  and  the  Artist  made  a  rush  through  the 
darkness  of  the  night  for  the  lake,  and  went  over  to 
Betton's  Camp,  but  the  midges  followed  them,  and 
they  returned.  The  Farmer  and  Mozart  were  dan- 
cing about  like  the  "  Wild  Men  of  Borneo,"  slapping 
and  banging  away  at  the  pests,  but  it  did  no  good. 
If  you  killed  a  hundred,  a  thousand  would  come  to 
their  funeral. 

Hearing  a  wild  cry,  I  looked  over  towards  the 
tent,  and  before  it,  on  a  box,  sat  the  Governor,  the 
victim  of  the  midges.  He  was  surrounded  by  them 
on  all  sides.  They  swarmed  around  him  by  millions. 
He  held  the  Artist's  large  rimmed  hat  in  both  hands, 
and  was  fanning  and  brushing  away  like  mad.  But 
bard  as  he  fought,  it  was  of  no  use,  and  he  finally 
collapsed,  and  rolled  off  the  box,  and  the  last  I  saw 
of  him  that-  evening  the  midges  were  holding  a  mass 
meeting  on  his  body. 

Our  camp  was  turned  into  a  Pandemonium  that 
night ;  and  we  were  the  noisiest  crowd,  I  will  ven- 
ture to  say,  that  ever  camped  in  that  vicinity.  All 
night  long  we  were  shouting,  laughing,  growling, 
jumping,  and  fighting  midges.  They  stuck  to  us 
like  flies  to  a  molasses  cask,  and  such  expressions 


120 


CAMP  LIFE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 


"  I  can't  stand  this :  they  will  eat  me  up  alive." 

"  Let's  get  away  from  here." 

"  My  face  is  covered  with  blood.'* 

"  The  little  devils  bite  worse  than  fleas." 

"  Isn't  it  most  morning  ?  " 

"  I'm  going  home  to-morrow,"  etc.,  kept  us  laugh- 
ing at  each  other,  and  put  sleep  out  of  the  question. 

In  the  morning  we  looked  as  if  we  had  all  just 
recovered  from  a  severe  attack  of  measles. 


SUNDAY  IN  CAMP.  121 


CHAPTER  XII. 

SUNDAY  IN  CAMP.  —  NEW  ARRIVALS. — WE  VISIT  WHIT- 
NEY'S, AND  GO  A- GUMMING.  —  A  RIDICULOUS  BEAR 
FIGHT.  —  A  DEMORALIZED  DOG.  —  FRESH  MEAT  FOR 
SUPPER. 

TOWARDS  morning  there  sprung  up  a  slight 
breeze,  which  carried  off  the  pests  that  had 
been  tormenting  us,  and  we  all  had  a  short  nap,  get- 
ting up  about  seven  o'clock. 

"  Come,  fellows,"  I  cried,  "  it  is  time  to  get  up. 
Sunday  morning,  you  know,  and  baked  beans  for 
breakfast  I " 

They  all  i:urned  out  at  the  mention  of  beans. 

•^  Scribbler,"  said  the  Artist,  "  run  down  to  the 
bake-house  and  get  a  loaf  of  brown  bread,  can't 
you?" 

"  I  have  been  already.     The  last  loaf  was  sold." 

"  Been  to  the  bake-house,  have  you  ?  "  queried  the 
Guide,  with  a  laugh.  "  You  must  have  started  pretty 
early ;  the  nearest  one  I  know  of  is  about  fifty  miles 
from  here.     I  guess  you  gentlemen  will  have  to  take 


122  CAMP  LIFE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

*  Backwoods  johnny-cake/  instead  of  *  Boston  brown 
bread/  this  morning." 

"Did  you  make  a  johnny-cake,  Guide?"  said  the 
Farmer.     "  You're  a  brick." 

Our  Sunday-morning  breakfast  was  not  to  be 
sneezed  at,  even  in  a  more  civilized  place.  We  had 
baked  beans,  a  dish  so  dear  to  every  New  England 
heart,  perhaps  I  ought  more  properly  to  say  stomach, 
supported  by  a  johnny-cake  of  the  Guide's  making, 
which  turned  out,  like  everything  else  that  he  had  a 
hand  in,  to  be  first-rate.  Then  we  had  nice  fresh 
trout  fried  to  a  charm,  splendid  coffee,  good  pilot- 
bread,  and  cold  roast  rabbit. 

After  breakfast,  during  our  smoke,  midges  formed 
the  principal  topic  of  discussion  ;  and  it  was  the  gen- 
eral opinion  that  a  quart  of  them  turned  loose  in 
a  hall  would  break  up  a  woman's-rights  meeting 
quicker  than  anything  we  knew  of. 

We  concluded  to  have  only  two  meals  that  day,  to 
make  it  easier  for  the  Guide,  and  we  arranged  to  take 
dinner  about  four  o'clock. 

After  smoking,  a  number  of  us  wrote  letters  home, 
as  Silas  Peaslee,  one  of  the  employees  at  the  Upper 
Dam,  was  going  down  to  Andover  in  the  afternoon, 
and  would  take  them. 

During  the  afternoon,  the  party  who  had  preceded 
us  when  we   left  the  "Arm,"  and   had  stopped  at 


WE   GO   A-GUMMING.  123 

the  "Angler's  Retreat/'  came  along,  and  pitched 
their  tent  near  ours.  There  were  five  in  the  party 
besides  the  guide,  and  we  found  them  very  pleasant 
gentlemen. 

In  the  afternoon,  all  of  our  party  except  the  Guide 
went  down  to  Mosquito  Brook,  to  pay  a  visit  to  Whit- 
ney's Camp,  but  the  person  who  kept  the  camp  was 
not  at  home,  and  we  left  after  a  few  minutes'  stay. 

When  we  had  pulled  about  a  third  of  the  way 
home,  the  Farmer  proposed  that  we  should  go  ashore 
and  get  some  gum.  As  we  were  in  no  hurry  to  get 
back,  we  did  so,  but  did  not  find  many  spruce-trees 
where  we  landed,  and  the  Farmer  proposed  that  part 
of  us  should  walk  home  through  the  woods,  thinking 
that  we  would  run  across  some  spruce-trees  on  the 
way. 

After  some  talk,  the  Pathfinder,  the  Professor,  and 
I,  concluded  to  keep  the  Farmer  company,  while  the 
rest  of  the  party  should  go  home  in  the  boat  and  get 
some  fresh  fish  for  dinner. 

Accordingly,  the  others  left  us  and  went  directly 
home  with  the  boat.  As  they  pulled  away  from  the 
shore,  Mozart  shouted  to  us,  and  asked  us  what  we 
should  do  if  we  met  a  bear,  for  neither  of  us  had  a 
gun. 

"  Set  Spot  on  him,"  said  the  Farmer,  with  a  grin. 

"  I  have  my  revolver  and  seven  charges  in  it/'  I 


124  CAMP  LIFE   IN   THE  WILDERNESS. 

replied.  "  I  guess  that  will  be  enough  for  all  the 
bears  we  shall  meet." 

After  the  boat  left  us,  we  struck  into  the  woods, 
and  began  to  look  for  spruce-trees. 

We  walked  perhaps  half  a  mile  before  we  found 
any,  and  then  came  across  a  number  of  them.  Taking 
out  our  knives,  we  began  to  collect  the  gum,  but  had 
only  obtained  a  little,  when  Spot  began  to  bark  furi- 
ously, and  the  next  moment  he  came  rushing  up  to 
me,  while  behind  him  was  one  of  the  largest  black 
bears  I  had  ever  seen,  accompanied  by  a  couple  of 
well-grown  cubs. 

We  had  often,  around  our  camp-fire,  told  what  we 
should  do  if  we  met  with  a  bear,  and  those  of  our 
party  who  were  now  together  had  wished  particu- 
larly to  meet  with  one,  bragging  about  the  way  we 
should  demolish  him. 

One  was  going 'to  shoot  him  between  the  eyes; 
another  walk  up  to  him,  and  when  the  bear  went  to 
hug,  stab  him  to  the  heart.  Another  would  hit  him 
over  the  nose  with  a  club,  and  then  take  him  alive ; 
while  a  fourth  said  that  if  he  could  once  draw  a  bead 
on  a  bear,  he  would  make  that  bear  sick. 

Now  here  was  the  chance  we  had  been  longing 
for.  We  had  met  a  bear,  and  the  opportunity  wa? 
before  us  to  capture  it  and  make  ourselves  heroes. 

Did  we  all  rush  for  that  bear  ? 


A   RIDICULOUS  BEAR-FIGHT.  125 

I  rather  guess  not. 

As  the  bear  came  shambling  along  after  the  dog, 
she  saw  us,  and  a  minute  later  had  pounced  upon  the 
Professor,  just  as  he  was  in  the  act  of  dodging  around 
a  large  pine,  and  knocked  him  end  over  end.  She 
then  saw  the  Pathfinder,  who  was  doing  his  best  to 
shin  a  tree,  and  making  for  him,  caught  him  by  the 
coat-tail ;  but  at  that  moment  the  Pathfinder  had 
obtained  a  good  hold  of  a  limb  above  him,  and  hung 
on  like  grim  death,  while  the  bear  chewed  away  on 
his  skirts.  Seeing  his  danger,  I  rushed  to  his  assist- 
ance ;  but  as  I  reached  the  bear,  the  coat-tails  were 
rent  ofi*,  and  the  Pathfinder  swung  up  on  the  limb 
minus  half  his  coat,  while  the  bear  backed  away  from 
the  tree  so  suddenly  that  she  ran  between  my  legs, 
and  the  next  moment  I  was  not  horseback,  but  bear- 
back.  My  hair  fairly  stood  on  end,  and  I  could  feel 
my  old  straw  hat  shoot  up  from  my  head.  Then  I 
remembered  tlie  revolver  I  had  with  me,  but  on  feel- 
ing for  it,  what  was  my  horror  to  find  that  I  had 
dropped  it,  and  I  saw  it  lying  upon  the  ground  at 
the  foot  of  the  tree  before  me.  I  had  been  carrying 
it  loose  in  the  outside  pocket  of  my  linen  duster,  and 
it  had  fallen  out.  Just  then  the  bear  rose  on  its  hind 
legs  and  tossed  me  off,  and  made  a  rush  for  the 
Farmer,  who  was  about  half-way  up  a  tree  that 
would  scarcely  hold  his  weight. 


126  CAMP  LIFE  IN  THE   WILDERNESS. 

I  took  this  chance  to  recover  my  revolver,  and 
making  a  grab,  I  picked  it  up  from  the  ground,  and 
fired  at  the  bear  just  as  she  had  squatted  on  her 
haunches,  with  one  of  the  Farmer's  boot-heels  in 
her  mouth. 

In  the  meantime,  Spot  had  recovered  from  his 
fright,  and  had  tackled  one  of  the  cubs,  getting  a 
good  hold  of  his  nose,  while  the  other  cub  was  just 
pitching  into  the  dog  from  behind. 

The  Professor  had  picked  himself  up  more  fright- 
ened than  hurt,  and,  for  a  man  who  was  usually  so 
moderate  in  his  movements,  was  climbing  a  tree 
with  a  speed  that  was  astonishing. 

As  I  regained  my  feet  and  looked  about,  I  thought 
the  dog  was  in  the  worst  fix  of  any  of  the  party, 
as  the  two  cubs  were  making  it  hot  for  him ;  and 
walking  up  to  the  one  that  was  attacking  him  in  the 
rear,  I  gave  him  a  kick  to  attract  his  attention, 
which  caused  him  to  turn  upon  me  with  a  snappish 
growl,  and  as  he  faced  about,  I  fired  into  his  ear, 
killing  him  instantly. 

With  a  roar  of  rage,  the  mother  of  the  cubs  made 
a  charge  upon  me.  1  fired  one  shot  as  she  came 
towards  me,  and  then,  not  liking  her  looks,  slipped 
my  revolver  into  my  pants-pocket,  and  took  to  a 
tree.  She  squatted  at  the  foot  of  it,  and  seemed  to 
be  making  up  her  mind  whether  to  follow  me  or  not. 


A   DEMORALIZED   DOG.  127 

Seeing  her  quiet  for  a  moment,  the  Farmer  slipped 
out  of  the  tree  he  was  in,  and  picking  up  a  stout 
limb  that  was  lying  on  the  ground,  he  hit  the  cub 
a  crack  on  the  head  which  finished  it. 

With  a  stifled  moan  the  animal  died,  and  the  Far- 
mer took  to  another  tree,  a  large  one,  unfortunately, 
this  time,  as  the  old  bear,  hearing  the  cry  of  the 
cub,  left  the  tree  where  I  was  and  charged  over  to 
the  cubs  again. 

Spot  undertook  to  tackle  the  bear,  but  she  fetched 
him  a  slap  with  one  of  her  great  paws,  and  with  a 
yip  he  went  flying  through  the  air  about  twenty 
feet,  and  lighted  on  his  back  a  thoroughly  demoral- 
ized dog.  He  picked  himself  up,  gave  a  shake  to 
assure  himself  that  he  was  all  right,  and  then  sat 
down  at  a  safe  distance  away,  to  see  the  fight  out. 
You  couldn't  get  him  near  that  bear  again. 

The  old  bear  now  began  tO  smell  of  her  cubs,  and 
snort  and  growl. 

The  Professor  hailed  me  from  his  tree. 

«  Scribbler  V* 

"  What  do  you  want  ?  " 

"  Why  don't  you  tie  that  bear's  feet  together,  and 
take  it  to  camp  alive  ?  " 

**  Try  it  yourself,  and  see  how  you  like  it." 

"  Give  her  another  shot,"  said  the  Farmer. 

*'  I  don't  dare  to,"  I  replied.     "  I  have  only  foui 


128  CAMP  LIFE  IN   THE   WILDERNESS. 

left,  and  I  want  to  be  nearer  before  I  fire.  If  I  was 
in  that  tree  where  you  are,  I  would." 

"  Lucky  that  coat  of  mine  was  an  old  one,"  re- 
marked the  Pathfinder. 

"  Never  mind,"  I  said,  laughing :  "  it  makes  an 
excellent  jacket  without  the  tails." 

By  this  time  the  bear  seemed  to  have  become 
satisfied  that  we  had  been  the  cause  of  the  death 
of  her  cubs,  and  growling  in  a  fearful  manner,  she 
shuffled  to  the  Farmer's  tree,  and  standing  erect, 
grasped  the  trunk  with  her  fore-paws. 

''  Scribbler  I  "  yelled  the  Farmer,  "  come  here  with 
your  revolver  ;  quick  1  That  infernal  brute  is  after 
me  1  "  and  then  the  Farmer  began  to  make  good 
time  towards  the  top  of  the  tree. 

I  slid  down  from  the  tree  I  was  in,  and  ran  to  the 
Farmer's  aid,  for  the  bear  was  already  climbing  the 
tree ;  and  a  she-bear  that  has  just  lost  two  cubs  is 
not  the  kind  of  customer  you  wish  to  have  cultivate 
your  acquaintance. 

As  I  came  up  to  the  foot  of  the  tree  the  bear 
heard  me,  and  turned  her  head  down  to  see  what 
the  noise  was.  This  was  just  the  chance  I  wanted, 
and  I  fired  two  shots  in  quick  succession,  one  into 
the  bear's  ear,  and  another  behind  her  fore  shoulder. 
As  she  dropped  to  the  ground,  I  let  her  have  the 
other  two  shots,  and  that  did  the  business  for  her, 


FRESH  MEAT  FOR  SUPPER.  129 

for  after  struggling  a  little  she  gave  her  last  kick, 
aud  became  a  dead  bruin. 

Then  the  fellows  came  down  from  their  roosts, 
and  I  went  to  look  after  my  dog.  I  found  him  all 
right,  but  not  disposed  to  be  very  frisky. 

We  left  the  bears  where  they  had  fallen,  and 
made  the  best  of  our  way  to  camp ;  and  getting  the 
Guide  and  the  others  of  our  party,  we  took  both  the 
boats  and  pulled  down  the  lake  until  we  were  op- 
posite of  where  the  dead  animals  lay.  We  went  on 
shore  and  lugged  them  down  to  the  boats,  then 
pulled  back  to  our  landing.  There  we  skinned 
them,  and  cutting  out  some  of  the  best  pieces  of  the 
meat,  we  returned  to  our  camp. 

We  told  the  gentlemen  who  were  tenting  near  us 
of  our  good  fortune,  and  asked  them  to  go  down  to 
the  landing  and  help  themselves  to  bear-meat,  which 
they  did.  Then  the  Guide  went  over  to  the  Upper 
Dam  Camp,.and  informed  the  people  there  they  could 
have  some  of  the  meat ;  and  they  went  down  with  a 
team  and  carried  away  a  good  share  of  it.  We  also 
sent  about  twenty  pounds  to  the  party  who  were 
camping  at  the  mouth  of  the  river. 

By  the  time  we  had  finished  taking  care  of  the 
bears,  we  v/ere  hungry  enough,  for  it  made  our  din- 
ner an  hour  later  than  we  intended  to  have  it. 

But  the  Guide  cooked  some  bear-steaks  cut  from 
9 


130 


CAMP  LIFE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 


one  of  the  cubs,  and  they  were  so  nice  that  we  felt 
amply  repaid  for  waiting. 

While  we  were  eating,  the  Governor  told  ns  that 
when  we  first  related  the  bear  story  he  thought  we 
were  trying  to  sell  them,  and  had  half  a  mind  not 
to  go  with  us. 

" In  that  case,"  said  the  Farmer,  "you  would  have 
lost  your  share  of  the  steak." 


CAMP-SINGING.  133 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

CAMP-SINGING.  —  SLEEPING  APABTMENT  BY  THE  LAKE- 
SHOBE.  —  THOUGHTS  AND  FANCIES.  —  A  VISIT  TO  THE 
BICHABDSON   PONDS. 

AFTER  supper  we  strolled  over  to  the  Upper 
Dam  Camp,  and  had  a  chat  with  Cummings ; 
then  walked  across  the  carry  to  Scow  Landing,  and 
took  a  look  out  on  the  great  lake,  that  is,  what  we 
could  see  of  it.  When  we  left  Boston,  it  was  our 
intention  to  cross  Mooselucmaguntic  and  the  Range- 
ley  Lake,  but  learning  at  the  Upper  Dam  that  the 
flies  and  midges  were  a  great  deal  thicker  up  there, 
and  that  the  fishing  was  not  near  as  good  as  it  was 
on  the  Richardson  Lakes,  we  concluded  to  stay 
where  we  were,  as  we  were  enjoying  ourselves  so 
well. 

We  returned  to  camp  at  dusk,  and  started  a  huge 
tire ;  the  other  party  joined  our  circle,  and  for  two 
or  three  hours  we  sat  about  the   camp-fire,  singing. 

If  there  is  any  one   part  of  our  camp  life  which 


134  CAMP  LIFE  IN   THE  WILDERNESS. 

is  brightest  in  my  memory,  it  is  the  happy  evenings 
we  whiled  away  in  the  dancing  shadows  of  the 
flickering  firelight.  After  tea  was  over,  and  the 
things  were  cleared  up,  we  would  regularly  gather 
around  the  bright  log  fire,  and  sing  or  talk  until 
nine  or  ten  o'clock,  when  we  bade  each  other  "  good 
night,"  and  retired  to  rest.  How  romantic  it  all 
was  I  There  was  nothing  we  enjoyed  more  than 
the  singing,  for  music  seems  to  come  in  so  naturally 
in  the  evening,  when  the  activity  and  excitement  of 
the  day  had  yielded  to  the  quiet  influence  of  the 
twilight,  and  tender  thoughts  of  home  and  friends 
sprung  up  in  their  place.  We  all  sang,  for  we  all 
felt  like  it,  and  the  beautiful  melody  of  "  Home, 
Sweet  Home,"  fell  on  the  night  air  with  a  tender 
softness  that  echoed  from  our  hearts. 

After  the  night  attack  by  the  midges,  part  of  us 
tried  sleeping  down  by  the  lake-shore,  and  found  it 
very  comfortable,  for  we  had  tine  weather  all  the 
time.  We  spread  fine  spruce  boughs  on  the  floor  of 
the  piazza  in  front  of  Camp  Bellevue,  and  on  these 
we  threw  our  overcoats ;  then  wrapping  ourselves 
in  our  blankets,  we  would  sleep  soundly  on  our  im- 
provised beds. 

One  day,  while  the  Governor  was  shooting  rabbits 
in  the  woods  near  the  lake-shore,  he  found  an  old 
camp  bedstead,   thrown   away   by   some   one,    and 


THOUGHTS  AND   FANCIES.  135 

thinking  he  might  turn  it  to  use,  he  brought  it  down 
to  the  piazza,  which  we  called  our  sleeping  apart- 
ment, and  fixed  it  up  so  that  it  made  a  very  good 
bed  for  an  out-door  camp,  and  Mozart  was  fortunate 
enough  to  share  it  with  him. 

After  I  had  slept  on  the  piazza  one  night,  I  would 
not  have  changed  back  to  my  hammock  in  camp. 
From  our  sleeping  apartment  —  it  being  all  open 
except  overhead  —  we  could  command  a  view  of 
the  lake  for  several  miles,  and,  while  rolled  snugly 
up  in  our  blankets,  could  gaze  out  upon  its  bosom 
and  see  — 

The  mirror  where  the  stars  and  mountains  view 

The  stillness  of  their  aspects,  in  each  trace 
Its  clear  depth  yields  of  their  far  heights  and  hue. 

To  the  north-west  cculd  be  seen  the  white  peaks 
and  rugged  sides  of  Aziscohos,  and  to  the  south 
the  more  distant  summit  of  Speckled  Mountain,  in 
Grafton  -Notch. 

A  strange  feeling  —  a  sort  of  mixture  of  solemnity 
and  awe  —  would  take  possession  of  my  soul,  as  1 
lay  awake  gazing  at  the  heavens  studded  with 
twinkling  stars,  or  the  grand  old  mountain  peaks, 
which,  wreathed  in  the  deep  shadows  of  night, 
seemed  to  descend  and  kiss  the  waters  of  the  lake. 
Then  we  would  hear  the  sighing  of  the  wind  as  it 
moved  the  lofty  tree-tops  above  us,  and  the  gentle 


136  CAMP  LIFE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

ripple  of  the  waters,  as  the  little  wavelets,  with  a 
feeling  of  unrest,  broke  upon  the  shore  and  left  a 
tiny  fleck  of  foam  along  the  edge  of  the  water. 
Other  sounds  might  be  heard  also  in  the  solitude 
of  night,  in  that  wild  and  desolate  region.  The 
mournful  cry  of  the  loon  —  the  great  northern  diver 
—  would  come  up  from  the  lake;  and  from  the 
woods  came  the  frightful  hoot  of  the  owl,  the  growl 
of  bears,  or  the  yell  of  some  startled  wild-cat. 

If  the  nights  we  spent  by  the  lake-shore  were  note- 
worthy, the  mornings  were  none  the  less  so ;  for  as 
the  sun  began  to  climb  up  behind  the  mountains  off 
to  our  left,  it  would  gradually  peep  above  some  lofty 
peak,  and  cast  long  rays  of  effulgent  light  across 
the  silvery  waters  of  the  lake,  and  streak  the  dark 
wooded  slopes  of  the  mountains  on  the  western  shore 
until  they  appeared  alternate  light  and  dark  from 
base  to  summit.  Then,  finally,  the  glorious  orb  of 
day,  appearing  like  a  great  globe  of  molten  fire, 
would  show  its  dazzling  form  above  the  entire 
eastern  chain  of  mountains,  and  send  its  bright 
beams  down  in  a  flood  of  generous  warmth,  to  heat 
our  shivering  bodies. 

The  morning  air  was  quite  sharp ;  and  it  was  not 
until  we  had  taken  a  bath  at  the  lake,  and  had  a  run 
up  to  camp,  that  our  blood  began  to  warm  up. 

But  there  is  one  good  thing  about  the  air  in  that 


VISIT   TO   THE   RICHARDSON   PONDS.  137 

region :  however  sharp  it  is,  and  however  uncom- 
fortable one  may  feel  from  the  cold,  even  if  wet 
through,  you  never  take  cold  there.  The  reason  of 
this  I  do  not  know  ;  1  only  know  that  it  is  so.  On 
all  my  trips  to  the  lake  region  I  have  been  repeat- 
edly wet  through,  but  never  took  cold,  although  I 
did  not  use  any  precaution  to  prevent  it.  There  is 
some  peculiar  tonic  in  the  air  that  kills  all  evil 
effects  of  a  chill. 

After  breakfast  Monday  morning,  we  held  a  con- 
sultation as  to  how  we  should  spend  the  day,  and 
the  Guide  proposed  we  should  visit  the  Richardson 
Ponds,  situated  near  Mount  Observatory,  about  six 
miles  from  where  we  were  encamped. 

The  Governor  thought  it  would  be  too  long  a 
tramp ;  but,  by  taking  the  boats,  we  could  sail  to 
the  head  of  the  lake,  over  half  the  distance ;  and 
he  concluded  to  go. 

Our  object  in  visiting  the  ponds  was  to  try  to  get 
a  shot  at  deer  or  caribou,  both  animals  being  plenty 
in  that  vicinity. 

We  took  the  "  Dancing  Sally,"  the  larger  boat  of 
the  two,  and  the  sail;  for  although  the  wind  was 
against  us  going  up,  it  might  be  fair  on  our  return. 
All  of  us  carried  guns  except  the  Guide,  and  I  lent 
him  my  revolver. 

The    Professor   loaded   up   his    old   musket   with 


138  CAMP  LIFE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

buckshot  enough  to  have  blown  an  elephant  to 
pieces,  if  he  had  met  one. 

About  eight  o'clock  we  started,  Spot  accompany- 
ing us.  It  was  a  beautiful  morning,  but  the  sun 
was  uncomfortably  warm,  so  we  kept  close  to  the 
eastern  shore,  in  the  shade  of  the  trees.  The  Guide, 
Sportsman,  Mozart,  and  the  Farmer,  took  the  oars,  I 
steered,  and  the  rest  of  the  party  made  themselves 
comfortable  in  any  manner  they  saw  fit. 

While  going  up  the  lake,  we  saw  several  ducks, 
but  were  not  near  enough  to  obtain  a  shot  at  them. 

It  was  about  nine  o'clock  when  we  reached  the 
head  of  the  lake,  and  I  ran  the  boat  up  to  the  shore 
near  the  old  dam. 

Where  we  landed  was  a  very  pretty  spot,  and  the 
whole  party  were  delighted  with  it.  A  bright, 
sparkling  trout-brook  emptied  into  the  little  cove 
we  had  entered  ;  the  shore  sloped  gradually  down 
to  the  water,  and  back  some  distance  the  land  was 
level.  Brakes  grew  here  luxuriantly,  some  of  them 
being  higher  than  our  heads,  with  stems  as  large  as 
whip-handles. 

Beneath  the  umbrageous  shade  of  the  spreading 
branches  of  a  large  pine  we  sat  down  to  rest  and 
nibble  a  biscuit  before  starting  on  our  tramp. 

From  where  we  sat,  looking  southward,  we  could 
Bee  the  whole  length  of  the  lake  to  the  Narrows; 


VISIT   TO   THE  EICHARDSON  PONDS.  139 

and  directly  opposite  to  us,  a  little  north  of  our 
position,  Observatory  and  Aziscohos  reared  their 
lofty  summits  to  the  sky. 

•'  What  a  fine  place  this  would  be  for  a  camp !  " 
remarked  the  Governor,  gazing  about  him. 

<'  Beautiful !  "  I  replied. 

"  It's  the  prettiest  place  on  the  lake,  I  think,"  said 
the  Guide,  as  he  arose  and  signified  his  readiness  to 
move  on.* 

The  Guide  took  the  lead,  the  others  followed,  and  I 
brought  up  the  rear,  keeping  Spot  close  to  me,  that 
he  might  not  frighten  any  game,  if  any  of  the  party 
should  see  anything  to  shoot  at. 

Quite  a  well-defined  and  beaten  path  led  up  into 
the  woods  from  where  we  had  made  our  landing, 
following  up  the  right  bank  of  the  brook  for  a  little 
over  a  mile. 

Then  we  crossed  the  brook  at  the  dam,  and  made 
our  way  through  the  woods  in  a  westerly  direction ; 
and  as  the  grade  was  up-hill,  and  we  had  numerous 
fallen  trees  to  climb  over,  it  made  the  travelling 
diflScult. 

Several  squirrels  were  shot  on  our  way  to  the 
pond.     Just  before  reaching  it  we  came  across  a 

♦Last  year,  1878,  J.  A.  L.  Whittier,  Esq.,  of  Boston,  built  a 
very  pretty  little  cottage  in  this  vicinity,  and  christened  it  "  Birch 
Lodge." 


140  CAMP  LIFE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

birch  canoe,  that  some  one  had  hidden  in  the  bushes. 
It  was  a  nice  one,  and  we  felt  strongly  tempted  to 
launch  it  on  the  pond,  but  concluded  not  to  meddle 
with  it  for  fear  we  might  injure  it. 

At  last  we  reached  the  pond,  and  were  glad  to 
rest  a  while.  There  were  quite  a  number  of  logs 
lying  about  the  shore  at  the  outlet  of  the  pond,  and 
on  these  we  sat  down  and  ate  the  lunch  we  had 
brought  with  us,  and  then  had  a  smoke  and  a  chat, 
the  principal  subject  of  conversation  being  caribou. 

The  sheet  of  water  where  we  now  were  is  the 
largest  of  the  Richardson  Ponds.  Several  small 
islands  in  it  add  to  its  beauty.  Its  waters  lave  the 
base  of  Observatory  Mountain,  and  Aziscohos  is  in 
close  proximity  to  it.  The  latter,  we  believe,  is  the 
highest  mountain  in  the  entire  lake  region,  and  in 
formation,  shape,  and  color  it  strongly  resembles 
Mount  Washington,  when  viewed  from  the  head  of 
the  lake.  The  shores  of  the  pond  are  thickly  cov- 
ered with  a  heavy  growth  of  timber,  although,  near 
the  water's  edge,  a  few  small  trees  and  some  under- 
brush are  to  be  seen.  The  common  black  bear, 
deer,  and  caribou  are  plenty  in  the  vicinity.  The 
fishing  here,  in  June  and  September,  is  excellent, 
and  a  great  many  trout  are  taken  from  the  pond 
each  year.  Some  have  been  caught  here  weighing 
as  high  as  seven  pounds.      A  long  point  runs  out 


VISIT  TO  THE   RICHARDSON   PONDS.  141 

from  the  middle  of  the  southern  end  into  the  water, 
and  this  is  considered  the  best  place  about  the  pond 
to  obtain  a  shot  at  deer  or  caribou,  as  on  hot  sum- 
mer days  they  come  down  to  this  place  to  drink  and 
get  rid  of  the  flies. 

From  either  of  the  mountains  mentioned  above 
an  excellent  view  of  the  surrounding  country  may 
be  obtained,  taking  in  range  upon  range  of  moun- 
tains, and  the  entire  lake  region,  a  prominent  feature 
of  this  beautifully  diversified  landscape  being  the 
Mooselucmaguntic  and  Cupsuptic  Lakes,  which  ap- 
pear as  one  sheet  of  water. 

One  can  hardly  imagine  a  more  beautiful  place 
than  the  Richardson  Pond  and  its  surroundings. 
Situated  in  the  middle  of  the  wilderness,  far  from  the 
abode  of  man,  and  never  visited  except  by  hunters 
or  sportsmen,  it  would  prove  a  most  delightful  resi- 
dence for  a  person  given  to  solitude,  and  would  be  a 
perfect  heaven  for  a  hermit. 

In  winter  the  trout-fishing  here  is  splendid,  and 
the  caribou  live  on  the  ice-covered  surface  of  the 
pond,  and  feed  on  mosses  and  the  young  growth 
around  its  shores.  With  proper  care,  a  person  liv- 
ing here  could  always  have  fresh  venison  on  the 
table. 


142  CAMP  LIFE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

A  BIG  FISH.  —  BEATING  UP  GAME.  —  A  SHOT  AT  A 
CARIBOU.  —  A  GUN  THAT  SHOOTS  AT  BOTH  ENDS.  — 
WE  BAG  THE  GAME.  —  BACK  TO  CAMP. 

AS  the  time  passed  away  and  noon  drew  near,  a 
cool  breeze  sprang  up,  which  made  the  air 
almost  cold  up  there  among  the  mountains.  It  was 
more  than  probable,  also,  that  it  would  spoil  our 
chances  to  get  a  shot  at  the  caribou,  as  they  are  not 
apt  to  visit  the  pond  in  the  middle  of  the  day,  unless 
the  air  is  hot  and  sultry. 

We  had  been  sitting  on  the  logs  for  some  time 
where  we  had  eaten  our  lunch,  without  seeing  any 
signs  of  game,  except  the  hawks  circling  high  over 
our  heads,  when  Mozart  jumped  up  and  said  he  was 
going  to  try  for  some  trout. 

Taking  his  tackle,  he  walked  out  to  the  end  of  the 
log,  and  made  a  cast  into  the  pond.  Now  the  log  on 
which  he  was  standing  was  rather  wet  and  slimy, 
and  as  Mozart  tried  to  get  a  secure  position  on  the 


A   BIG   FISH.  143 

log,  he  suddenly  slipped,  and  "  ker  souse  "  he  went 
into  the  water. 

"  Big  fish  ! "  shouted  the  Governor.  "  Who  has  a 
cod-line?" 

We  all  roared  with  laughter  as  Mozart  climbed 
out  on  the  log  and  began  to  shake  the  liquid  damp- 
ness from  his  clothes. 

"  Heavy  trout,  wasn't  it,  Iklozart  ? "  asked  the 
Farmer  with  a  smile. 

"  Oh,  shut  up,  cheapy  I  "  replied  the  discomfited 
fisherman. 

"Wanted  to  take  a  bath,  didn't  you,  my  boy?" 
interrogated  the  Governor,  with  another  gentle 
laugh. 

"  Wait  till  you  get  in  yourself,  and  see  how  you 
like  it,"  retorted  Mozart,  as  he  pulled  off  part  of  his 
clothing  and  spread  it  around  to  dry. 

"  Well,  gentlemen,"  remarked  the  Guide, "  I  think, 
while  Mozart  is  waiting  for  his  clothing  to  dry,  we 
had  better  separate  and  beat  around  the  edge  of  the 
pond,  and  see  if  we  can't  start  up  some  game." 

"  All  right !  "  I  replied. 

"  I  will  stay  here  to  keep  Mozart  company,"  added 
the  Farmer ;  "  that's  the  kind  of  a  man  I  am." 

"  Poor  company  is  better  than  none,"  remarked 
Mozart. 

The   party  divided;    the   Guide,  the  Artist,  the 


144  CAMP   LIFE  IN   THE  WILDERNESS. 

Sportsman,  and  the  Governor  starting  along  the 
north  shore,  and  the  Professor,  the  Pathfinder,  and 
myself  going  around  the  south  shore  towards  the 
point  that  made  into  the  pond,  that  I  have  before 
spoken  of. 

We  had  made  about  half  the  distance  to  the  Point, 
when  we  heard  two  shots  in  rapid  succession  from 
the  other  party. 

"  They  have  fired  at  something,"  said  the  Path- 
finder. 

"  I  would  like  to  know  what  ?  "  queried  the  Pro- 
fessor. 

"  A  hawk,  perhaps,"  I  suggested  ;  "  we  saw  quite 
a  number  of  them,  you  know,  while  we  were  taking 
our  lunch." 

By  dint  of  hard  struggling,  we  made  our  way 
through  a  thicket  of  young  growth,  and  just  as  we 
came  out  on  the  point  where  we  could  command  a 
view  of  the  pond,  we  heard  another  series  of  shots, 
four  or  five,  so  near  together  that  it  sounded  almost 
like  a  volley. 

"  Where  in  thunder  are  they  ? "  asked  the  Path- 
finder. 

"  Look  for  the  smoke  of  their  guns,"  I  advised ; 
"  that  will  tell  us." 

**  I  see  it,"  said  the  Professor, "  curling  up  through 


BEATING   UP   GAME.  145 

the  trees,  a  little  above  where  Mozart  and  the 
Farmer  are." 

"  Hurrah  !  "  I  exclaimed  suddenly,  as  I  stared  hard 
up  the  pond  towards  the  place  where  we  judged 
them  to  be ;  *'  they  have  started  game  indeed  I  A 
caribou,  as  I'm  a  living  sinner  !  Keep  the  dog  still. 
Pathfinder,  and  perhaps  the  Professor  and  I  will  get 
a  shot ;  he's  heading  directly  for  this  point." 

I  was  excited,  as  were  also  my  companions.  We 
would  have  taken  a  great  deal  of  trouble  to  obtain 
a  shot  at  a  deer  or  caribou ;  and  now  to  have  one, 
as  it  were,  run  right  into  our  faces,  was  a  piece  of 
good-fortune  that  caused  the  blood  to  quicken  in  our 
veins,  and  make  our  hearts  leap  for  joy.  We  could 
scarcely  keep  from  giving  a  cheer. 

"  Who  has  the  ammunition  ?  "  I  whispered. 

"  I  have,"  replied  the  Pathfinder. 

"  Give  me  three  or  four  buckshot,  then.  One  of 
my  barrels  is  loaded  with  bird-shot." 

I  hastily  dropped  them  into  my  gun,  and  crammed 
down  a  paper  wad  on  top  of  them.  By  this  time 
the  caribou  was  most  to  the  shore,  and  heading 
straight  towards  the  bushes  behind  which  we  were 
hiding ;  but,  as  luck  would  have  it,  the  wind  blew 
towards  us,  so  that  the  animal  had  not  scented  us. 

"  He's  wounded,"  said  the  Pathfinder  j  "  notice 
10 


146  CAMP  LIFE  IN   THE   WILDERNESS. 

the  water,  it  is  bloody  in  his  wake.  Some  of  them 
hit  him." 

"  Be  ready  now,  Professor  I  "  I  cried.  "  I  will  fire 
first,  then  you  bang  away ;  and  I  will  save  one  bar- 
rel as  a  reserve  shot,  in  case  we  don't  kill  him  at 
first." 

"  Let  him  have  it  now,  Scribbler,"  said  the  Pro- 
fessor ;  "  it's  just  a  good  shot." 

"  Wait  a  moment  longer ;  he  may  sink  if  you  kill 
him  where  he  is  now,"  suggested  the  Pathfinder. 

For  a  second  only  I  stopped ;  and  then,  taking  a 
careful  aim  at  his  breast,  I  pulled  the  trigger.  But 
at  the  moment  the  hammer  struck  the  cap,  a  little 
limb  under  my  right  foot  broke,  destroying  my  aim, 
and  the  buckshot  went  high  overhead. 

"  Now,  Professor,"  I  cried,  "  it  is  your  turn  !  " 

As  our  forgetful  friend  brought  his  old  musket  to 
his  shoulder,  I  could  not  help  laughing,  in  spite  of 
my  anxiety  not  to  lose  the  game,  for  the  moment  the 
Pathfinder  saw  the  Professor  about  to  take  aim,  he 
retreated  with  Spot  behind  a  large  pine,  with  a  most 
comical  look  of  fear  on  his  face.  The  next  second 
the  Professor  fired. 

Following  the  report,  I  heard  something  from  his 
lips  which  sounded  very  much  like  hard  words,  and 
turning,  beheld  him  sprawlipg  on  the  ground,  the 
old  musket  beside  hii^. 


A  GUN  THAT  SHOOTS  AT  BOTH  ENDS.      147 

Another  look  at  the  caribou  assured  me  that  the 
Professor's  old  musket  had  done  some  execution,  foi 
the  animal  stopped  swimming  for  a  moment,  and  I 
thought  he  was  going  to  sink;  but  rallying,  he  began 
to  make  headway  again,  although  swimming  slower 
than  before. 

As  he  stepped  out  on  the  shore,  I  took  quick  aim 
with  my  remaining  barrel  and  fired,  and  the  next 
moment  saw  him  sink  to  the  earth. 

"  Come  on  1  "  I  cried  to  my  companions  ;  "  he^s 
done  for." 

I  was  about  to  start  on  the  run,  when  I  heard  the 
Pathfinder  say : 

"  Halloo,  Professor,  what^s  the  matter  with  you  ?  " 

I  looked  around,  and  beheld  him  sitting  upright 
on  the  ground,  rubbing  his  shoulder,  and  looking 
kind  of  worked  up. 

"I  believe  that  gun  kicked,"  replied  the  Pro- 
fessor, with  a  drawl,  as  he  slowly  regained  his 
feet,  and  looked  at  the  musket  a's  if  half  tempted 
to  throw  it  away. 

"  No  matter  if  it  did,"  I  said ;  "  you  hit  the 
caribou ; "  and  we  rushed  down  to  where  he  lay. 

He  was  dead,  sure  enough ;  and  on  looking  him 
over,  we  found  seven  buckshot  holes  in  his  hide. 

"  Now  what  are  we  going  to  do  with  him  ? " 
asked  the  Pathfinder. 


148  CAMP  LJFE  IN   THE  WILDERNESS. 

"  Get  him  over  to  where  Mozart  and  the  Farmer 
are,  and  then  we  can  decide." 

^'  But  he^s  heavy,  Scribbler ;  how  can  we  man- 
age to  carry  him  ? "  queried  the  Professor. 

For  reply,  I  began  fumbling  in  my  pockets,  and 
soon  found  what  I  was  in  search  of,  a  stout  cord 
that  I  had  brought  along  to  fasten  Spot  with,  in- 
tending to  leave  him  by  the  boat  when  we  came 
up  to  the  pond ;  but  I  changed  my  mind  when  we 
left  the  lake,  and  the  cord  now  was  just  what  I 
wanted.  Cutting  it  in  two  equal  pieces,  we  tied 
the  two  fore  legs  and  the  two  hind  legs  of  the 
caribou  together,  and  then  hanging  the  earcass  on 
the  Professor's  ^'  long  nine,"  Pathfinder  and  I  shoul- 
dered the  musket,  and  we  started  for  the  pile  of 
logs,  where  we  had  left  our  two  companions.  The 
Professor  followed,  bringing  my  gun.  When  we 
arrived  at  the  rendezvous,  we  found  the  other  party 
there,  and  they  had  a  hedgehog  and  a  young  bear 
to  show  for  the  powder  they  had  burnt. 

^'  By  Jove  !  "  exclaimed  the  Artist,  as  we  hove  in 
sight,  "  they  have  bagged  the  caribou." 

"  You  can  just  bet  we  have,"  said  the  Pathfinder. 

"What's  the  matter  with  you.  Professor?"  asked 
the  Governor,  as  he  noticed  the  rueful  expression 
of  the  Professor's  countenance  as  he  rubbed  hia 
shoulder. 


WE  BAG   THE   GAME.  149 

"  He  fired  at  the  caribou,"  I  replied,  "  and  the  old 
musket  kicked  so,  it  nearly  dislocated  his  shoulder. 
It  knocked  him  end  over  end ;  but  he  hit  the  game 
when  he  fired,  and  I  finished  it." 

We  laid  the  caribou  down,  and  all  the  party  took 
a  look  at  it. 

"  Rather  a  pretty-looking  animal,"  remarked  the 
Farmer. 

"  Which  one  of  you  fired  at  him?"  I  asked  of  the 
Guide. 

"  We  all  had  a  shot.  He  was  at  the  shore,  drink- 
ing, when  we  first  discovered  him,  and  the  Governor 
fired  and  hit  him.  Then  he  took  to  the  pond,  and 
we  all  blazed  away.  I  thought  we'd  lost  him  ;  but 
the  Artist  said  you  might  get  a  shot  at  him  if  he 
landed  near  the  Point." 

"  Well,  I  guess  we  all  had  a  hand  in  his  death,"  I 
replied,  "  for  he  has  no  less  than  seven  buckshot  in 
his  body." 

**  What  do  you  wish  to  do  with  the  caribou,  gen- 
tlemen?" queried  the  Guide.  "It  is  a  young  one, 
and  will  be  very  tender.  No  better  meat  was  ever 
eaten  than  young  caribou,  and  you  will  say  so  when 
you  try  it." 

"  I  move  we  carry  it  to  camp,"  replied  the  Path- 
finder. 

"  It  will  be  a  heavy  lug,"  I  suggested  j  "  a  mile 


150  CAMP  LIFE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

and  a  half,  you  know,  to  the  boat — confounded  tire- 
some tramping,  too." 

"  We  have  had  bear-meat  enough,"  said  the  Sports- 
man. 

**  Let's  skin  the  cub,  take  his  hide  along,  and  leave 
his  body  here  ;  there  are  plenty  of  animals  about 
here  to  eat  it." 

"  I  think  that  will  be  best,"  replied  the  Guide. 
"  You  will  find  by  the  time  we  get  to  the  boat 
that  the  caribou  will  be  all  you  will  care  to  tote." 

He  accordingly  skinned  the  bear,  and  then  cut- 
ting down  a  sapling  with  his  jack-knife,  we  put 
the  caribou  on  it,  and  started  for  the  lake.  The 
Guide  and  I  carried  it  the  first  time ;  then  Mo- 
zart and  the  Sportsman  tried  it ;  and  by  taking 
turns  we  reached  the  boat  without  being  tired  out. 
We  found  the  wind  was  fair  for  our  return,  and 
setting  the  sail,  we  were  soon  running  merrily  down 
the  lake. 

We  reached  our  landing  about  four  o'clock, 
jumped  out  of  the  boat,  and  then  drew  it  up  on 
the  shore.  Taking  the  caribou  and  the  bear-skin, 
we  tracked  it  for  our  tent,  and  were  not  sorry 
when  we  reached  it. 


A  CARIBOU   SUPPER.  151 


CHAPTER  XV. 

A  CARIBOU  SUPPER.  —  RIVER-DRIVERS.  —  "  NO  WHIS- 
KEY." —  A  NARROW  ESCAPE.  —  AN  EXPERIENCED 
GUNNER.  —  DEPARTURE   OF   OUR  NEIGHBORS. 

^^UB  fellows  in  the  other  tent  turned  out  to  wel- 
-    come  us  on  our  arrival. 

*' What  luck?"  they  all  cried. 

*'  Pretty  fair,"  answered  the  Governor.  *'  I  shot 
the  caribou,  and  the  Professor  broke  his  'shoulder. 
There's  a  job  for  you,  Doctor." 

"  Who  shot  the  bear  ? "  asked  another  of  the 
party,  as  he  noticed  the  bear-skin. 

"  The  Artist,"  replied  the  Guide. 

"  You  have  had  good  luck,  gentlemen,  and  I  con- 
gratulate you,"  said  the  Doctor. 

"  All  owing  to  our  superior  guide,"  declared  Mo- 
zart. 

"  And  the  Professor's  musket,"  put  in  the  Farmer. 

*^  Here,  Doctor,"  said  the  Governor,  with  a  laugh, 


152  CAMP  LIFE  IN  THE   WILDERNESS. 

"  T  want  you  to  set  this  fellow's  shoulder  ;  "  intimat- 
ing the  Professor. 

"  My  shoulder  is  all  right,"  replied  the  Professor, 
joining  in  the  laugh  that  was  raised  against  him. 

"  Come,  gentlemen,  let  us  skin  the  caribou  while 
the  Guide  starts  the  fire,"  proposed  the  Artist,  "  and 
we  will  have  some  of  the  steaks  for  supper." 

We  all  took  hold,  and  after  removing  the  skin,  the 
Guide  cut  out  some  of  the  choice  pieces  and  cooked 
them  to  a  turn.  After  supper  we  were  all  agreed 
that  the  caribou  was  the  best  meat  we  had  ever 
tasted,  far  superior  to  beef 

As  we  w^ere  sitting  around  the  camp-fire  that 
evening,  enjoying  our  customary  smoke  and  sing, 
we  were  suddenly  startled  by  a  series  of  most  un- 
earthly yells  that  brought  us  to  our  feet,  with  curi- 
osity and  wonder  depicted  on  our  faces,  and  caused 
Spot  to  set  up  a  continuous  barking,  while  his  hair 
stood  on  end  the  whole  length  of  his  back. 

The  noise  came  from  the  carry  road,  between  our 
camp  and  the  Richardson  lake-shore. 

We  were  not  long  in  learning  the  cause  of  the 
disturbance. 

In  a  few  moments  after  hearing  the  first  noise,  we 
saw  the  twinkle  of  lights,  and  soon  two  men  issued 
from  the  gloom,  bearing  lanterns.  Close  behind 
them  followed  about  forty  men,  bearing  two  large 


153 

bateaux  on  their  shoulders,  and  cursing  and  swear- 
ing in  a  manner  that  would  have  made  religious 
people  think  that  there  was  a  chance  for  a  little 
missionary  work  at  home,  before  commencing  any- 
more in  India. 

This  crowd  was  a  party  of  river-drivers,  who  had 
been  down  the  Androscoggin  with  an  immense  drive 
of  logs  during  the  month  of  June,  and  who  were 
now  returning  to  their  homes  by  way  of  Rangeley 
«  city." 

They  were  a  pretty  rough  set  of  boys,  yet,  with 
all  their  faults,  kind-hearted  and  brave. 

They  wanted  to  know  if  we  had  any  whiskey  to 
spare. 

The  Governor  told  them  I  was  the  only  one  of  the 
party  that  took  anything,  and  that  I  was  such  a 
toper  I  had  drank  it  all  up,  and  wore  the  flask 
around  my  neck  to  smell  of. 

"  No  whiskey  ?  You're  a  devil  of  a  crowd ! " 
shouted  the  disgusted  lumberman,  as  he  strode  off 
in  the  darkness. 

While  we  were  encamped  at  the  Upper  Dam, 
several  of  these  returning  crews  of  river-drivers 
passed  our  camp,  but  never  offered  to  molest  us. 

The  guides  generally  speak  well  of  them,  and  say 
that  the  only  thing  they  are  ever  known  to  steal  is 
li<luor. 


154  CAMP  LIFE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

After  going  down  to  the  dam,  and  seeing  the  lum- 
bermen launch  their  bateaux,  we  returned  to  camp, 
and  retired  for  the  night. 

The  second  morning  after  we  reached  the  Upper 
Dam,  three  of  our  party  had  an  adventure  that  came 
near  terminating  seriously,  which  I  will  relate  here. 

Wishing  to  try  the  trout,  the  Farmer,  Mozart,  and 
the  Pathfinder  took  the  "  Rolling  Moses,''  and  pulled 
to  the  mouth  of  the  river,  in  hopes  of  securing  a 
good  catch. 

It  was  a  dangerous  place  for  a  crank  boat,  as  the 
current  was  very  powerful,  and  a  large  body  of 
water  was  here  crowded  into  a  narrow  space,  pass- 
ing over  numerous  sunken  logs  and  rocks,  foaming, 
struggling,  and  roaring  in  its  frantic  efforts  to  tear 
a  pathway  for  itself  down  to  the  upper  Richardson 
Lake,  into  which  it  flows. 

But  the  crew  of  the  "  Rolling  Moses  "  were  not  at 
all  daunted  by  the  wild  turmoil  of  the  seething 
waters,  and  pulled  straight  up  the  rapids  as  far  as 
they  could  force  the  boat,  and  then  catching  at  a 
dead  cedar,  blown  over  into  the  water  by  some  vio- 
lent gale,  they  made  the  bow  of  the  boat  fast  to  it. 

This  would  have  done  well  enough,  if  they  had 
not  tied  a  rock  to  a  line  and  thrown  it  out  astern, 
thinking  to  make  the  boat  ride  easier.  But  it  had 
just  the  contrary  effect,  for  as  they  tightened  the 


A  NARROW  ESCAPE.  155 

stern  Hue  it  brought  her  broadside  to  the  current, 
the  power  of  which  caused  the  bow  line  to  snap  the 
dead  limb  to  which  it  was  tied,  and  the  next  moment 
she  partly  broached  to,  half  filled  with  water,  and 
was  swiftly  carried  down  the  rapids,  in  danger  of 
being  overturned  at  any  minute  by  coming  in  con- 
tact with  submerged  rocks,  which  were  scattered 
plentifully  about  them.  At  this  crisis  one  of  the 
oars  was  lost,  and  it  was  more  by  good  luck  than 
good  management  that  they  readied  the  shore  be- 
fore the  boat  sunk.  As  it  was,  they  were  all  con- 
siderably frightened  and  thoroughly  soaked.  After 
getting  the  water  out  of  the  boat,  they  paddled 
back  to  the  landing  with  one  oar,  and  hurried  up  to 
camp  to  get  dry. 

Early  the  next  morning,  the  Farmer  and  I  took 
the  "  Kolling  Moses,"  and  a  pair  of  oars  from  the 
"  Dancing  Sally,"  and  pulled  up  around  the  eastern 
shore,  to  eee  if  we  could  find  the  lost  oar.  It  was 
painted  bright  red,  and  could  be  easily  distinguished 
from  drift-wood. 

After  pulling  a  short  distance  above  the  mouth  of 
the  river,  we  found  it  on  shore,  where  it  had  been 
drifted  by  the  wind ;  we  returned  to  camp  well 
satisfied,  for  it  was  one  of  the  best  oars  we  had, 
and  we  should  have  been  bothered  by  its  loss. 

Tuesday  morning,  about  four  o'clock,  some  of  the 


156  CAMP  LIFE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

gentlemen  went  over  to  the  dam,  fishing,  while  the 
Guide  and  the  Governor  went  up  to  the  Cove  on  the 
same  business. 

I  did  not  get  up  until  about  half-past  five  ;  and 
finding  the  camp  deserted,  I  took  the  Farmer's  gun, 
which  I  supposed  was  loaded,  and  calling  to  my  dog, 
strolled  down  towards  the  dam." 

I  had  almost  reached  the  sluice-way,  when  I  no- 
ticed an  eagle  winging  his  flight  towards  me.  As 
he  would  pass  almost  directly  overhead,  I  thought  I 
should  get  him  sure. 

I  cocked  the  gun,  raised  it  carefully  to  my  shoul- 
der, and  taking  deliberate  aim,  pulled  the  trigger. 
No  sound  but  the  click  of  the  lock  followed.  I  tried 
the  other  barrel  with  the  same  result,  for  neither 
of  them  were  capped. 

"  Confound  the  Farmer  for  taking  the  caps  oflT 
this  gun,"  I  muttered  to  myself.  "  I  shall  lose  that 
eagle." 

My  fingers  were  cold,  but  I  fumbled  about  in  one 
of  my  pockets  and  found  a  box  of  caps.  Then  I 
capped  both  tubes,  and  taking  hasty  aim,  pulled 
both  triggers,  for  the  eagle  was  getting  farther  away 
every  moment. 

The  caps  both  snapped,  but  not  a  report. 

I  was  disgusted. 


AN  EXPERIENCED   GUNNER.  157 

I  drew  out  the  ramrod  and  dropped  it  into  one 
of  the  barrels.     It  was  not  loaded. 

I  tried  the  other.     Nary  load  in  that. 

I  had  come  out  gunning  with  an  empty  gun  I 

Was  I  mad  ? 

Imagine  yourself  in  my  place,  and  the  question  is 
answered. 

Just  then  the  Farmer  and  the  Sportsman  came 
up  to  me  with  a  string  of  trout,  and  the  Farmer, 
with  an  exultant  grin,  said : 

"  Why  didn't  you  shoot  that  eagle.  Scribbler?  " 

"You  are  a  smart  man,"  added  the  Sportsman, 
"  to  go  gunning  with  an  empty  gun." 

"  By  gracious  !  Sportsman,"  exclaimed  the  Farmer, 
"  we  have  a  joke  on  the  Scribbler  now.  We  must 
tell   this  story  at  breakfast.     It's  too  good  to  keep." 

"  I  don't  want  it  kept,"  I  replied.  "  It  is  a  pretty 
good  joke  on  me,  and  no  mistake.  When  the  Gov- 
ernor hears  it,  how  he  will  roar  I  But,  like  Sothern, 
I  can  stand  a  joke,  and  I  don't  mind  it  any.  The 
next  time  you  leave  your  old  blunderbuss  in  camp 
empty,  tell  me  of  it,  will  you  ?  " 

"  I  will,  if  I  agree  to.  That's  the  kind  of  a  man  I 
am,"  said  the  Farmer  with  a  laugh. 

We  went  up  to  camp  and  built  the  fire,  and  break- 
fast was  pretty  well  under  way,  when  the  Guide  and 
the  Governor  returned  from  the  Cove. 


158 


CAMP  LIFE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 


They  brought  in  a  fine  string  of  trout  with  them, 
several  three-pounders  among  the  number. 

At  breakfast,  the  Farmer  related  my  gunning 
exploit,  and  I  had  to  take  it  from  all  hands  —  or, 
rather,  tongues. 

After  breakfast,  we  found  our  neighbors  were 
taking  down  their  tent,  and  they  told  us  they  were 
going  down  to  the  Middle  Dam,  to  try  the  fishing 
a  while. 

We  went  down  to  the  landing,  and  saw  them  off, 
giving  them  three  hearty  cheers  as  they  pulled 
down  the  lake. 


A  day's  sport.  161 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

A  day's  sport.  —  A  LONELY  TRAMP.  —  LOST  IN  THE 
FOREST.  —  RUNNING  FOUL  OP  THE  WRONG  CUS- 
TOMER. —  A  CAT-ASTROPHE. 

AFTER  returning  to  camp,  we  had  a  talk  as  to 
how  we  should  spend  the  day,  and  finally  we 
divided  into  three  parties.  Mozart,  the  indefatigable 
fisherman,  with  the  Guide  and  the  Governor,  went 
down  to  the  mouth  of  the  river  to  try  the  trout 
again.  The  Sportsman,  the  Professor,  and  the  Artist 
went  off  gunning,  and  the  Pathfinder,  the  Farmer, 
and  myself  took  our  guns,  and  went  off  after  rab- 
bits, or  any  other  game  worth  killing. 

When  we  left  camp,  it  was  agreed  to  have  dinner 
at  one  o'clock,  and  all  promised  to  be  at  the  tent  at 
that  hour. 

On  leaving  the  camp,  my  companions  and  myself 
crossed  the  dam,  passed  by  the  camps,  and  struck 
into  the  woods  behind  them,  having  never  been  in 
this  part  of  the  wilderness  before. 
11 


162  CAMP  LIFE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

We  wished  to  get  quite  a  distance  away  from  our 
own  camp,  as  we  thought  our  prospects  of  getting 
game  would  be  better. 

Taking  a  look  at  the  sun,  as  we  left  the  clearing, 
we  tramped  onward  in  a  northerly  direction,  until 
we  were,  as  near  as  I  could  judge,  at  least  three 
miles  away  from  camp,  without  having  shot  anything 
but  a  few  squirrels  and  a  couple  of  rabbits. 

We  had  reached  a  place  where  there  was  quite  a 
heavy  growth  of  spruce,  and  gum  was  plenty ;  and 
the  Farmer  proposed  that  we  should  stop  a  little 
while  and  get  some  gum. 

I  told  him  that  I  did  not  care  for  any,  but  would 
tramp  on  a  short  distance  farther,  and  see  if  I  could 
not  get  a  shot  at  something,  while  he  and  the  Path- 
finder procured  their  gum. 

Not  wishing  to  take  a  lot  of  things  we  did  not 
want,  we  had  left  camp  with  only  one  box  of  caps, 
one  horn  of  powder,  and  one  shot-belt.  I  had  the 
caps,  the  Pathfinder  the  powder,  and  the  Farmer 
the  shot. 

I  had  my  double-barrel  gun  with  me,  which  I  was 
sure  was  loaded  and  capped  this  time  ;  my  revolver 
I  had  left  in  camp.  Not  expecting  to  go  out  of 
hearing  of  my  companions,  I  did  not  take  the 
ammunition. 

I  started  off  with  my  gun  over  my  shoulder,  keep- 


A  LONELY  TRAMP.  163 

ing  my  eyes  well  open,  for  I  did  not  know  but  that 
I  might  meet  another  bear,  and  had  loaded  one 
barrel  with  a  heavy  charge  of  buckshot,  in  case  I 
should  run  across  such  a  customer. 

I  strolled  along  slowly,  smiling  at  the  squirrels 
as  they  played  their  pranks  in  the  trees,  for  I  did 
not  care  to  shoot  them.  I  wanted  larger  game. 
I  might  possibly  have  travelled  a  mile  from  where  I 
had  left  my  friends,  without  seeing  any  thing  that  I 
cared  to  fire  at,  when  it  occurred  to  me  that  they 
would  become  tired  waiting  for  me,  and  that  I  had 
better  rejoin  them. 

Casting  a  careless  glance  about  me,  I  turned,  and 
tramped  back,  as  I  supposed,  over  my  own  trail,  but 
after  travelling  for  nearly  an  hour,  I  had  not  found 
them. 

I  concluded  they  had  returned  to  camp,  and  1 
kept  on  at  a  little  faster  pace. 

Some  time  after,  I  reached  a  little  clearing  in  the 
forest,  where  the  trees  had  been  destroyed  by  fire, 
and  looking  up  at  the  sky,  was  somewhat  surprised 
to  see  the  sun  directly  overhead. 

I  pulled  out  my  watch  and  glanced  at  it. 

Five  minutes  past  twelve  I 

Where  had  the  forenoon  gone  to  ? 

To  my  alarm,  also,  I  began  to  notice  that  the  part 
of  the  woods  where  I  was  looked  unfamiliar,  and  I 


164  CAMP  LIFE   IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

was  certain  that  I  had  never  before  run  across  the 
little  ridge  where  I  now  was. 

It  began  to  occur  to  me  that  I  was  lost.  Wishing 
to  ascertain  whether  or  not  the  other  gentlemen 
were  out  of  hearing,  I  shouted  as  loud  as  possible. 
Anxiously  I  listened  for  a  response.  Not  a  voice 
replied. 

I  was  -alone  in  the  middle  of  a  wilderness  that 
reached,  unbroken,  for  many  miles,  with  only  my 
own  thoughts  for  company.  Spot  had  accompa- 
nied the  Sportsman.     How  I  missed  my  dog  then  I 

I  would  have  discharged  my  fowling-piece,  but 
not  having  any  more  ammunition,  I  thought  it  wiser 
to  save  the  loads  for  an  emergency :  and  one  offered 
sooner  than  I  expected. 

I  wasted  all  the  spare  breath  I  had  in  shouting, 
without  hearing  any  reply,  and  then  started  in  the 
direction,  as  near  as  I  could  judge,  that  the  camp 
ought  to  be.  I  travelled  an  hour  or  more,  and 
then  what  was  my  chagrin  to  come  out  at  the  foot 
of  the.  identical  horse-back  (ridge)  that  I  had  left. 
I  had  been  travelling  in  a  circle,  and  this  fact  did 
not  tend  to  make  me  feel  an}'-  more  comfortable. 

I  sat  down  on  a  fallen  tree  to  cogitate,  and  just 
then  I  heard  a  noise  that  brought  me  to  my  feet 
in  double-quick  time.  The  noise  came  from  a  few 
feet  to  the  right  of  me.     I  glanced  along  the  wind- 


MEETING   THE  WRONG   CUSTOMER.  165 

fall  on  which  I  had  been  sitting,  and  at  the  further 
end  I  saw  a  sight  that  made  me  feel  sick. 

There  was  no  mistake  about  it,  I  was  frightened. 
Standing  on  the  tree,  and  glaring  at  me  spite- 
fully, their  backs  arched,  and  their  fur  ruffled  all 
along  their  backs,  were  a  couple  of  wild-cats,  nearly 
as  large  as  a  Newfoundland  dog. 

At  that  moment  I  would  have  sold  out  cheap, 
and  heartily  wished  that  by  some  miraculous  inter- 
vention of  Providence  I  might  be  suddenly  trans- 
ported to  the  *•  Hub." 

It  seemed,  about  that  time,  that  wood-life  had  no 
charms  for  me,  but  quite  the  contrary.  I  glanced 
around  to  take  in  the  situation  more  completely. 
About  twenty  feet  back  of  me  grew  a  good-sized 
spruce,  with  branches  just  within  my  reach.  Keep- 
ing my  eyes  steadily  on  the  savage  brutes,  I  slowly 
retreated  until  I  reached  the  tree.  Then  I  brought 
my  gun  up 'to  my  shoulder  to  fire,  but  my  hand 
shook  so,  I  could  not  take  aim.  Dropping  the  butt 
of  my  gun  to  the  ground,  I  stood  still  a  few  mo- 
ments until  I  had  calmed  my  nerves,  and  then 
taking  a  long,  steady  aim,  I  let  the  foremost  ani- 
mal have  the  charge  of  buckshot,  and  immediately 
afterwards  I  was  climbing  that  spruce  with  a  celer- 
ity that  would  have  made  a  disinterested  spectator 
roar  with  laughter. 


166  CAMP  LIFE  IN   THE  WILDERNESS. 

I  had  clung  to  my  gun  while  climbing  the  tree, 
and  gaining  the  lower  limb,  and  securing  a  good 
foothold,  I  looked  anxiously  down  to  see  the  result 
of  my  shot.  The  wild-cat  I  had  fired  at  lay  dead 
beside  the  fallen  tree,  and  the  other  was  standing 
over  it,  spitting  and  growling  in  a  way  that  boded 
no  good  to  myself.  Becoming  satisfied  that  its  mate 
was  really  dead,  it  bounced  angrily  toward  the  tree 
where  I  had  taken  refuge.  As  it  reached  the  bot- 
tom, and  prepared  to  spring  up,  I  let  it  have  the 
small  shot  square  in  the  face,  without  any  other 
efiect  than  to  irritate  it,  however ;  for  a  moment 
after  I  fired,  it  sprang  for  the  limb  I  was  standing 
on,  and  its  fore-paws  touched  it.  I  gave  it  a  rap 
over  the  head  with  the  butt  of  my  gun,  and  it 
dropped  to  the  ground  a  little  bewildered.  But  I 
was  not  rid  of  the  animal  by  any  means.  As  Arte- 
mus  Ward  used  to  say,  he  was  a  "  sociable  cuss,"  and 
seemed  determined  to  cultivate  my  acquaintance. 

The  animal  picked  itself  up  lively,  and  moving 
back  a  short  distance  from  the  tree,  sat  down  and 
gazed  at  me,  spitting  and  howling  as  if  the  devil  was 
in  it  —  and  probably  he  was.  The  creature  seemed 
to  know  I  had  no  charge  for  my  gun,  and  had  evi- 
dently come  to  the  conclusion  to  wait  until  night, 
and  then  have  another  try  at  me. 

I  had  seen  its  long,  terrible-looking  claws  when  it 


MEETING  THE  WRONG  CUSTOMER.  167 

spraDg  at  me,  and  knew  if  it  kept  me  there  until 
night  it  would  make  short  work  of  me,  unless  help 
arrived.  How  I  blamed  myself  for  strolling  off 
alone,  with  only  a  box  of  caps  for  ammunition  I 
But  then  I  had  not  expected  to  get  lost.  It  was 
too  late,  however,  to  grieve  now.  I  was  in  for  it. 
In  fact,  I  was  in  what  you  might  call  a  "  tight  fix." 

I  began  searching  my  pockets  to  see  if  I  could 
find  anything  in  the  shape  of  "  grub,"  for  I  was 
getting  confoundedly  hungry.  I  went  through  my 
pockets  and  found  a  pilot-cracker  and  three  cigars. 
The  cracker  I  ate  eagerly.  The  cigars  were  real 
Havanas,  but  I  would  have  given  them  all  for  an- 
other cracker.  The  one  I  had  eaten  only  made  my 
hunger  more  pressing.  My  stomach  grumbled  at 
such  short  rations,  and  I  felt  thirsty. 

I  buckled  my  belt  tighter,  and  drew  one  of  the 
"  weeds  *'  out  of  my  pocket  and  bit  ofi*  the  end.  I 
felt  for  a  majtch,  but  did  not  find  one.  I  was  in  a 
state  of  matchless  misery.  A  cigar,  and  nothing  to 
light  it  with  I  Had  I  been  such  an  egregious  ass  as 
to  leave  camp  without  any  matches?  I  uttered  a 
howl  of  disappointment,  and  went  through  my  pock- 
ets a  second  time.  But  not  a  match  met  my  re- 
search.    I  could  have  cried  with  vexation. 

Suddenly  it  occurred  to  me  that  I  might  possibly 
find  a  match  somewhere  about  the  lining  of  my  pock- 


168  CAMP  LIFE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

els.  We  had  all  worn  old  clothes,  and  our  pockets 
were  somewhat  dilapidated.  With  some  such  feel- 
ing as  a  drowning  man  has  when  he  catches  at  a 
straw,  I  commenced  a  third  time  to  search,  and  was 
almost  overjoyed  to  find  under  my  vest-pocket,  be- 
tween the  linings,  a  couple  of  matches. 

I  had  never  thought  I  should  become  partial  to 
brimstone,  but  I  gazed  at  those  two  matches  with 
an  affection  that  could  only  be  realized  by  a  person 
placed  in  similar  circumstances. 

Carefully  I  drew  one  of  the  precious  bits  of  wood 
and  brimstone  over  the  leg  of  my  pantaloons  and 
struck  a  light.  I  applied  the  flame  to  the  cigar,  and 
soon  its  perfumed  smoke  was  curling  lazily  upwards. 
I  threw  the  blazing  match  in  the  catamount's  face. 
It  made  him  spit  worse  than  ever,  and  he  seemed 
half  determined  to  spring  at  me  again.  But  he 
changed  his  mind,  evidently  thinking  he  had  me 
securely  caught,  and  could  wait  his  time  to  sharpen 
his  claws  on  me. 

I  looked  at  my  watch,  for  I  noticed  the  sun  had 
declined  considerably.  It  was  four  o^clock.  Good 
heavens  1     Would  my  friends  never  come  ? 

I  began  to  grow  desperate.  I  had  half  a  mind  to 
jump  down  and  tackle  the  wild-cat,  and  fight  it  out 
on  that  line  until  one  of  us  went  under.  But  then 
those  frightful  claws ! 


MEETING  THE  WRONG  CUSTOMER.  169 

An  empty  gun  was  a  poor  defence  against  them. 

Five  o'clock  came. 

I  began  to  get  mad. 

I  thought  the  gentlemen  in  our  party  were  con- 
founded mean  not  to  hunt  me^up. 

Would  I  have  let  one  of  them  been  away  from 
camp  eo  long,  without  instituting  a  search  for  him? 

Not  much. 

Time  passed  on,  and  the  hands  of  my  watch  indi- 
cated six  o'clock. 

Nervous  with  excitement,  I  had  smoked  all  my 
cigars  without  realizing  it  until  they  were  gone^  and 
now  ray  parched  lips  and  redoubled  thirst  were  the 
penalty  of  my  thoughtlessness. 

In  another  hour  the  sun  would  begin  to  sink  be- 
hind the  mountains,  and  1  would  probably  furnish  a 
meal  for  the  savage  brute  watching  me. 

He  would  feast  on  revenge,  and  glut  his  stomach 
at  the  same  time. 

I  began  to  wonder  what  my  chances  were  in  the 
next  world,  and  whether  my  creditors  would  weep 
for  me  if  I  was  rubbed  out. 

The  catamount  now  began  to  show  signs  of  un- 
easiness, as  if  he  intended  to  commence  the  battle. 

I  began  to  halloo  again. 

The  woods  resounded  with  my  voice,  but  no  reply 
came  back. 


170  CAMP  LIFE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

Quarter  to  seven,  and  the  evening  shadows  began 
to  lengthen  around  me. 

In  the  name  of  heaven,  where  were  my  friends? 
Would  they  make  no  search  for  me  that  day  ? 

I  shuddered  at  the  thought. 

The  air  was  damp,  and  the  night  gave  token  of 
being  chilly. 

Hark  1     Was  that  Spot's  bark,  or  did  I  fancy  it  ? 

Eagerly  I  listened  to  catqh  the  sound  again,  with 
every  nerve  strung  up  to  an  unnatural  tension. 

It  came  again  I 

There  was  no  mistaking  his  short,  sharp  bark. 
With  an  inward  "  Thank  God  1 "  I  aroused  from  the 
despair  that  had  well-nigh  overwhelmed  me,  and 
began  to  shout. 

Then  I  heard  seven  shots  in  rapid  succession. 

Some  one  was  firing  my  revolver. 

Louder  and  louder  I  yelled ;  my  throat  felt  as  if  it 
would  burst  from  my  efibrts. 

Hurrah  !  an  answering  shout  came  back. 

A  few  moments  later,  and  I  saw  four  forms  through 
the  dusky  daylight. 

I  made  out  the  Guide  as  the  leader. 

"  Look  out !  "  I  shouted.  "  Don't  let  the  dog  get 
here ;  I  am  treed  by  a  wild-cat !  " 

"  All  right  I ''  was  the  answer,  in  Sportsman's  well- 
known  voice. 


A   CAT-ASTROPHE.  171 

A  moment  longer,  and  I  could  discern  them  all. 

The  Guide,  the  Governor,  the  Farmer,  the  Sports- 
man, and  the  dog. 

The  catamount  had  become  uneasy  at  so  much 
noise,  and  was  evidently  frightened,  for  it  turned  as 
if  to  run  away,  but  hesitated  a  few  minutes,  and 
stood  facing  in  the  direction  from  which  my  friends 
were  coming. 

They  caught  sight  of  the  animal,  and  the  Gover- 
nor and  the  Farmer  hastily  poured  some  buckshot 
into  their  guns.  The  next  moment  two  reports 
awoke  the  echoes  of  the  forest,  and  the  animal 
sprawled  out  on  the  ground  and  gave  its  last  kick. 

I  dropped  my  gun,  and  tried  to  get  down  out  of 
the  tree,  but  I  had  been  so  cramped  up  that  I  fell, 
and  the  Guide  caught  me  in  his  arms. 

I  told  them  my  story  briefly. 

"  How  far  are  we  from  camp  ? "  I  asked  of  the 
Guide. 

"  About  seven  miles." 

It  was  ten  o'clock  when  we  reached  camp,  and 
after  eating  some  supper,  I  gave  them  the  particu- 
lars of  my  adventure. 

They  had  all  been  hunting  for  me  since  two 
o'clock,  having  divided  into  two  parties,  Sportsman 
informed  me.     The   other    party,   which    had    not 


172 


CAMP  LIFE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 


reached  camp  when  we  arrived,  came  in  just  as  the 
Guide  was  about  to  start  in  search  of  them. 

I  felt  thankful  for  my  escape,  and  after  that  we 
were  all  careful  not  to  stray  off  alone. 


DOWN  THE  LAKE.  173 


CHAPTER  XYII. 


DOWN  THE  LAKE.  —  A  VISIT  TO  WHITNEY'S.  —  A 
SWAMPED  BOAT.  —  WE  VISIT  THE  "  FARM."  —  THE 
"  PATHFINDER."  —  A  WET  TRAMP. 

IT  was  later  than  usual  when  we  arose  the  next 
morning,  and  at  the  breakfast-table  we  discussed 
the  proposition  made  by  one  of  our  number,  as  to 
whether  we  should  go  down  to  the  Middle  Dam  and 
stop  a  few  days.  It  was  finally  decided  to  do  so ; 
and  after  breakfast  we  commenced  pulling  up  stakes, 
and  getting  ready  for  our  departure. 

I  felt  none  the  worse  for  my  adventure  of  the  day 
before,  and  helped  carry  the  things  down  to  the  lake, 
and  load  the  boat. 

Where  every  one  worked  with  a  will,  it  did  not 
take  a  great  while  to  break  camp,  and  finally  all  was 
ready,  and  we  bade  adieu  to  our  pleasant  camping- 
ground,  with  the  hope  of  seeing  it  another  summer. 

The  Guide  took  charge  of  the  "  Dancing  Sally,"  and 
I  of  the  '^  Rolling  Moses." 


174  CAMP  LIFE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

The  Governor  and  Mozart  went  with  the  Guide, 
and  the  Farmer,  the  Pathfinder,  Sportsman,  the  Pro- 
fessor, and  the  Artist  went  with  me.  We  had  to 
stow  close,  but  as  most  of  the  luggage  was  in  the 
other  boat,  we  managed  to  get  along  very  well. 

The  Guide  and  my  party  were  going  directly 
down  to  the  Middle  Dam,  while  the  rest  of  us  in- 
tended to  call  at  Whitney^s,  and  also  stop  at  Metalic 
Point,  and  go  up  to  the  so-called  Richardson  Farm, 
where  the  Sportsman  and  I  had  camped  on  a  former 
trip. 

The  weather  still  continued  fine,  and  the  morning 
was  as  pleasant  as  one  could  wish. 

The  Guide  had  the  start  of  us  by  fifteen  minutes, 
but  we  did  not  care,  as  we  were  not  going  his  way. 

Sportsman  and  the  Farmer  took  the  oars,  and  I 
the  helm,  and  off  we  went  on  our  return  trip. 

There  was  a  fresh  north-wester  blowing,  causing 
a  heavy  sea  to  roll  across  the  lake,  and  it  made  hard 
rowing.  When  we  had  accomplished  half  the  dis- 
tance, the  Artist  and  the  Professor  took  the  oars 
and  pulled  the  other  mile,  to  Mosquito  Brook.  When 
we  reached  the  beach  in  front  of  Whitney's  Camp, 
our  other  boat  was  just  passing  Metalic  Point. 

We  landed  with  some  diflSculty,  for  the  white- 
capped  rollers  were  dashing  up  on  the  sand,  and  the 
boat  was  very  unsteady. 


A  SWAMPED   BOAT.  175 

We  all  went  up  to  the  house,  and  found  the  man 
in  charge  of  the  camp  at  home,  and  he  gave  us  a 
cordial  welcome.  We  entered,  and  were  shown 
over  the  house,  then  had  a  chat  with  the  keeper. 

He  informed  us  that  Mr.  Whitney  had  not  been  up 
yet  that  season,  but  he  was  expecting  him  with  a 
party  every  day. 

We  stopped  about  half  an  hour  at  the  camp,  and 
then  went  down  to  our  boat,  and  were  disgusted  to 
find  that  she  had  broken  from  her  moorings,  and  had 
broached  to  on  the  beach,  with  every  wave  sweeping 
squarely  into  her. 

Everything  was  submerged  and  floating  about  in 
the  water. 

We  made  a  rush  and  righted  her  up,  set  her  afloat, 
then  ran  her  up  on  the  beach  high  and  dry,  and 
poured  the  water  out  of  her. 

"  By  Jove  I "  exclaimed  the  Farmer,  "  the  cigars 
are  soaked;    That's  a  poor  joke." . 

"  There  is  a  box  in  the  other  boat,"  said  the  Artist. 
We  took  out  our  things,  and  freed  them  from  the 
water. 

Some  of  the  party,  myself  among  the  number,  had 
valises  in  the  boat,  and  they  were  full  of  water,  and 
their  contents  thoroughly  wet. 

We  opened  them,  took  out  the  things,  and  emptied 


176  CAMP  LIFE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

out  the  water.  Then  we  put  everything  back  in  the 
boat. 

"  When  we  get  down  to  the  farm,  we  can  dry  our 
things,  so  let's  tumble  them  into  the  boat,  and  be  off," 
I  suggested. 

The  camp-keeper  noticed  our  delay,  and  came 
down  to  the  beach  to  see  what  the  trouble  was. 
We  told  him,  and  he  laughed,  and  said  we  should 
have  run  our  boat  in  to  the  mouth  of  the  brook,  and 
she  would  have  been  all  right. 

After  we  were  afloat  again,  we  spread  out  a 
few  of  the  things  on  the  thwarts  of  the  boat,  so  that 
they  would  dry  while  we  were  going  down  to  the 
Point. 

At  Metalic  Brook  we  undertook  to  leave  the  lake 
and  pull  up  the  brook  as  far  as  the  clearing,  think- 
ing the  water  was  high  enough  for  us  to  do  it.  But 
there  was  a  bar  at  the  outlet,  covered  only  by  two 
or  three  inches  of  .water,  and  as  none  of  us  cared  to 
lift  the  "  Rolling  Moses  "  over  it,  we  gave  up  the  idea, 
and  pulled  down  around  Metalic  Point,  and  landed 
on  the  sand  beach. 

As  soon  as  we  had  hauled  up  the  boat,  we  took  our 
wet  things  and  spread  them  on  top  of  the  bushes  in 
the  sun,  thus  giving  them  a  chance  to  dry  while  we 
went  up  to  the  clearing. 


WE    VISIT   THE   "PARM.'^  177 

Everything  was  so  changed  in  appearance  by  the 
height  of  water,  that  it  was  some  time  before  we 
could  find  the  path  that  led  up  to  the  barns ;  but 
after  hunting  about  for  a  while,  we  found  it,  but  only 
followed  it  a  short  distance  before  we  came  to  water. 
We  made  a  detour  to  the  left,  along  a  little  ridge  that 
was  above  the  water,  following  as  near  where  the 
path  ran  as  we  could  without  getting  wet,  hoping  to 
find  a  dry  place  to  cross  in  a  short  time. 

The  farm-buildings  sat  on  a  little  elevated  plateau, 
and  I  was  quite  certain  there  would  be  no  water 
about  them. 

The  Pathfinder  took  the  lead,  bragging  that  he 
would  find  a  dry  path  ;  and  it  was  upon  that  event- 
ful day  that  he  earned  for  himself  the  sobriquet  of 
the  "  Pathfinder.'' 

He  managed  to  get  some  distance  in  advance  of 
us,  and  as  the  woods  and  underbrush  were  very 
thick,  we  soon  lost  sight  of  him  altogether. 

Finally  we  became  a  little  bewildered,  and  hailed 
the  Pathfinder,  and  asked  him  if  he  could  see  the 
barns. 

He  told  us  they  were  a  short  distance  off  to  the 
right.  He  had  been  up  a  tree,  and  saw  them  from 
the  top  of  it. 

We  pushed  onward  in  the  direction  of  his  voice, 
12 


178  CAMP  LIFE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

but  had  only  gone  a  few  rods  when  we  came  to 
water.  Still  we  could  hear  him  struggling  through 
the  underbrush  some  way  ahead. 

I  thought  it  about  time  to  hail  him  again. 

"  Pathfinder  ! " 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  caine  back,  faintly. 

"  Is  there  any  water  where  you  are  ?  " 

"  None  of  any  account." 

"  Can  you  see  the  barns  yet  ? '' 

"  Yes.  I  am  almost  out  to  the  clearing.  It's  only 
a  rod  or  two  ahead." 

"  Let's  push  on,  then,"  said  the  Artist.  "  My  boot- 
legs are  so  long  I  will  lead  the  way." 

We  accordingly  pushed  on,  and  were  soon  floun- 
dering in  water  up  to  our  knees,  which  grew  deeper 
every  step  we  advanced,  until  finally  it  reached  our 
armpits. 

Some  of  the  fellows  began  to  remonstrate  in  no 
very  mild  terms.  We  felt  that  the  Pathfinder  had 
sold  us. 

"  He's  a  confounded  humbug  I "  exclaimed  the 
Farmer. 

"  A  regular  cheap  guide,"  added  the  Artist. 

"  This  is  a  dry  path  with  a  vengeance,"  said  the 
Professor.  "  I  move  we  nickname  that  gentleman 
the  *  Pathfinder,'  to  pay  for  this  sell." 


A  WET  TRAMP. 


179 


We  all  acquiesced  in  the  Professor^s  proposal,  and 
the  "  Pathfinder  "  was  christened  for  life. 

We  stumbled  on,  alternately  laughing  and  growl- 
ing, the  dog  swimming  behind  us,  until  we  finally 
came  out  into  the  clearing  on  higher  ground,  and 
were  once  more  out  of  the  water,  but  wet  to  our 
skins. 


Ms. 


180  CAMP   LIFE  IN   THE  WILDERNESS. 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

THE     RICHARDSON     FARM.  —  THROUGH     THE     WATER. — 
THE    MIDDLE    DAM    CAMP.  —  A    GOOD    SUPPER. 

HOW  do  you  like  it,  as  far  as  you've  been?" 
asked  the  Pathfinder,  with  a  mischievous  smile, 
as  we  walked  up  to  where  he  was  waiting  for  us. 

"  This  is  played  out,"  answered  the  Professor ; 
"  you  are  a  perfect  old  fraud." 

"  Where  were  you,  I  would  like  to  know,  when  I 
hailed  you,  and  you  told  me  there  was  no  water  of 
any  account  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  On  a  stump,"  he  replied,  with  a  chuckle. 

"  You  ought  to  be  rode  on  a  rail  now  to  pay  for 
it,"  said  Sportsman,  laughing. 

"  Strawberries  are  plenty  here,  and  I  thought  you 
would  want  some,"  replied  the  Pathfinder,  with  an- 
other grin.  In  fact,  he  appeared  to  enjoy  hugely 
the  manner  in  which  he  had  sold  us. 

"  Well,  old  fellow,  I'll  get  even  with  you  for  my 
wetting  before  we  get  back  to  Andover." 


THE   RICHARDSON  FARM.  181 

"  That's  right,  Scribbler,"  said  the  Farmer  ;  "  j^oa 
and  I  will  put  up  a  job  on  him  the  first  chance  that 
offers." 

"  I  am  willing,"  he  replied,  laughing ;  "  I  can 
stand  it." 

The  place  where  we  now  were  had  been  cleared 
of  timber  years  before,  and  for  several  seasons  crops 
had  been  raised  on  the  land.  But  since  the  farm 
had  been  deserted,  a  new  growth  had  sprung  up  on 
the  land,  threatening  in  time  to  change  the  clearing 
to  forest  once  more.  But  at  present  there  are 
several  large  pieces  of  grass,  and  among  this  the 
wild  strawberries  grow  very  plentifully,  and  we 
found  them  a  toothsome  delicacy.  We  picked  a  lot 
of  them,  and  then  went  up  and  inspected  our  old 
camping-ground.  We  found  our  fireplace  partially 
destroyed,  but  still  everything  about  the  clearing 
looked  natural  to  the  Sportsman  and  myself. 

By  this  jtime,  however,  we  found  that  there  were 
a  few  midges  and  black-flies  about,  seeking  whom 
they  might  devour,  and  we  concluded  to  return  to 
the  boat.  When  we  had  been  at  the  farm  before, 
it  was  in  August,  and  the  flies  and  midges  did  not 
trouble  us.  They  are  more  plenty  in  July  than  in 
any  other  month. 

When  we  reached  the  southern  end  of  the  clear- 
ing, I  proposed  to  the  party  to  strike  the  path  and 


182  CAMP  LIFE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

follow  it  down  to  the  beach,  as  we  could  not  get  any 
wetter  than  we  were  then. 

All  of  them  agreed.  We  kept  on  dry  land  as  long 
as  we  could,  and  then  plunged  into  the  water,  wading 
along  in  single  file,  but  the  water  did  not  rise  above 
our  shoulders. 

We  could  feel  the  path  perfectly  easy  with  our 
feet ;  and  although  the  water  was  rather  cold,  it  was 
easier  getting  along  than  scrambling  through  the 
woods  and  underbrush.  I  had  on  a  long  linen 
duster,  and  it  floated  out  about  a  yard  behind  me 
on  the  water. 

We  were  a  comical-looking  set  of  ducks,  as  we 
went  along  wading  and  splashing,  laughing  and 
joking  over  the  situation,  the  dog  swimming  in  the 
rear. 

After  two  or  three  hundred  yards  of  this  wading, 
the  path  ran  over  higher  ground,  and  became  free 
of  water  once  more. 

"  By  thunder  I "  exclaimed  the  Artist,  as  we 
emerged  from  the  water,  dripping  like  so  many 
drowned  rats,  ^*  I  would  have  been  willing  to  have 
given  ten  dollars  to  have  had  the  Governor  with  us." 

"  It  would  have  been  sport,"  said  the  Professor; 
and  he  laughed  at  the  thought  of  it. 

When  we  reached  the  boat  we  had  to  take  off  our 
clothes  and  wring  the  water  out  of  them,  and  then 


MIDDLE  DAM  CAMP.  185 

picking  up  our  things  that  had  been  wet  earlier  in 
the  day,  but  were  quite  dry  now,  we  packed  them 
in  the  boat,  and  without  further  trouble  pulled  down 
to  the  Middle  Dam,  and  unloaded  our  boat.  Going 
on  shore  we  found  that  the  Guide  had  pitched  our 
tent  a  few  rods  south  of  the  "  Angler's  Retreat,"  and 
had  supper  all  ready  for  us. 

Mozart  and  the  Governor  had  been  to  supper,  and 
had  gone  out  to  the  dam  to  try  their  luck  with  the 
trout ;  we  accordingly  sat  down  to  the  table,  and  as 
usual  made  a  hole  in  the  Guide's  good  things. 

After  tea  we  strolled  out  to  the  dam,  and  found 
our  friends  fishing,  also  some  gentlemen  from  New 
York  who  were  stopping  at  the  camp. 

They  had  good  luck  there,  and  took  a  large  num- 
ber of  nice  fish  weighing  from  one  to  four  pounds 
each. 

As  we  were  all  quite  fatigued  and  had  been 
thoroughly  soaked,  that  is,  all  who  had  come  down 
the  lake  in  the  "Rolling  Moses,"  we  took  lodgings  for 
the  night  at  the  camp,  the  Guide  also  sleeping  in- 
doors. 

But,  on  turning  out  in  the  morning,  we  found 
that  our  Guide,  the  Pathfinder,  the  Sportsman,  the 
Farmer,  the  Professor,  and  myself  were  all  that 
were  to  breakfast  together.  The  Artist,  Mozart, 
and  the  Governor  hpd  made  up  their  minds  to  board 


186 


CAMP  LIFE  IN  THE  WILBERNESS. 


at  the  camp,  during  our  stay  at  the  Middle  Dam. 
The  Farmer  concluded  to  lodge  at  the  camp, 
although  he  took   his  meals  in   the  tent. 

But  the  majority  of  our  party,  who  stuck  to  the 
tent,  determined  that  as  we  had  come  up  to  the 
lakes  to  "  camp  out,'*  we  would  ^'  camp  out "  to 
the  end  of  the  trip. 


:>'J%^'iO:>  .,;/. 


A  VISIT  TO  LAKE  UMBAGOG.  187 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

A  VISIT  TO  LAKE  UMBAGOG. — THE  ANDROSCOGGIN  AND 
MAGALLOWAY  RIVERS.  —  ROMANTIC  SCENERY.  — 
"  PULLING  HARD  AGAINST  THE  STREAM."  —  WE 
REACH    CAMP    AGAIN. 

AFTER  breakfast  I  tried  to  make  up  a  party  to 
go  down  to  Lake  Umbagog,  and  up  the  Magal- 
loway  River,  for  the  sake  of  the  sail  on  the  steamer; 
but  the  fellows  were  all  for  fishing,  and  only  the 
Sportsman  accompanied  me.  The  trip,  however, 
was  delightful,  and  we  enjoyed  the  day  hugely. 

Mr.  Tenney,  who  had  charge  of  the  Middle  Dam 
Camp  at  that  time,  was  going  down  to  meet  the 
steamer  and  the  passengers  from  Upton,  if  there 
were  any,  and  we  went  along  with  him. 

We  left  the  camp  at  seven  o'clock,  having  four 
miles  and  a  half  to  walk  to  reach  the  Cedar  Stump, 
a  place  on  the  Rapid  River,  where  we  were  to  take 
a  row-boat.  Tenney  drove  the  baggage  team,  and 
we  followed  on  foot.     The  road  was  so  rough  that 


188  CAMP  LIFE   IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

the  horse  had  to  walk  all  the  way,  and  we  had  no 
diflSculty  in  keeping  up  with  old  "Bonney,"  as  the 
nag  was  called. 

The  walk  was  very  pleasant,  the  road  turning  and 
twisting  through  the  woods,  and  we  obtained  some 
fine  views  of  the  rapids  on  the  river,  as  the  road  in 
some  places  runs  close  to  the  stream. 

We  passed  a  private  camp,  called  ^'Forest  Lodge,'' 
sitting  on  a  high  bluff  overlooking  the  river,  about 
three  miles  from  the  Middle  Dam  Camp. 

From  the  sightly  eminence  on  which  the  lodge 
stands,  the  eye  takes  in  a  long  stretch  of  the  river, 
which  here  presents  a  very  romantic  picture,  as  it 
flows  swiftly  towards  the  lake,  the  water  foaming, 
fretting,  and  tumbling  over  tlie  huge  rocks  that  form 
the  river-bed.  Just  below  this  point  is  a  place  called 
"  Smooth  Ledge,"  where  is  excellent  trout-fishing, 
some  of  our  party  having  splendid  luck  there. 

Along  the  road  one  will  see  many  deserted  camps, 
built  by  the  river-drivers  while  logging  on  the  stream 
in  the  early  part  of  the  summer.  The  logs  that  come 
through  the  Upper  Dam  are  made  up  into  immense 
rafts  at  the  mouth  of  the  river,  warped  down  across 
the  Richardson  Lakes  to  the  Middle  Dam,  where  the 
booms  are  broken  up,  and  the  logs  sent  through  the 
sluice  singly.  Thence  they  float  down  the  Eapid 
River  to  Lake  Umbagog,  and  are  warped  across  that 


A  VISIT   TO   LAKE  UMBAGOG.  189 

lake  to  the  Androscoggin  River,  down  which  stream 
they  float  to  the  Errol  Dam.  They  are  run  through 
this  dam,  and  then  continue  on  their  way  down  the 
Androscoggin  to  Auburn  and  Lewiston.  It  takes 
two  seasons  to  get  a  drive  of  logs  from  the  upper 
lakes  to  Lewiston,  it  stopping  the  first  year  at  Milan. 
At  the  end  of  the  ^'  carry  "  Mr.  Tenney  fastened  the 
horse,  and  we  launched  a  row-boat  and  started  down 
the  river.  The  current  is  very  swift,  but  there  are 
no  dangerous  rapids  below  the  Cedar  Stump. 

It  did  not  take  long  to  row  the  mile  and  a  half, 
aided  by  such  a  strong  current,  and  we  reached  the 
"  Inlet "  ahead  of  the  steamer,  which  was  coming 
from  Upton,  twelve  miles  distant  by  water. 

After  waiting  a  few  moments,  we  discerned  the 
steamer  out  on  the  lake,  heading  towards  us,  with 
huge  clouds  of  smoke  rolling  from  her  funnel.  She 
appeared  in  the  distance  like  a  toy  steamer,  but  as 
she  draw  nearer  to  us  we  found  her  to  be  a  boat 
some  eighty  feet  long,  and  her  name,  "  Diamond," 
was  painted  on  the  front  of  the  wheel-house.  She 
was  a  side-wheeler,  and  had  a  hurricane-deck  that 
extended  about  two-thirds  her  length. 

She  came  puflSng  and  snorting  up  to  where  we 
were,  and  then  her  engine  was  stopped.  We  stepped 
on  board,  and  two  gentlemen,  who  were  on  the 
steamer,  bound  for  the  Middle  Dam,  took  our  places 


190  CAMP  LIFE   IN   THE   WILDERNESS. 

in  the  small  boat  with  Tenney,  and  he  pushed  off. 
As  he  was  not  coming  down  in  the  afternoon,  he 
promised  to  leave  a  boat  for  us  at  the  Inlet,  and  we 
could  row  up  to  the  "  carry  "  road  ourselves.  That 
was  satisfactory  to  us,  and  as  the  engineer  started  up 
again,  and  the  steamer  began  to  move  out  into  the 
lake,  we  shouted  our  farewells  to  "  Jim,"  who  replied 
by  a  wave  of  his  hat. 

The  distance  from  the  Inlet  to  Errol  Dam,  which 
would  be  our  first  stopping-place,  was  about  eight 
miles.  In  crossing  the  lake  we  had  a  fine  view  of 
some  of  the  White  Mountains,  also  of  the  higher 
peaks  lying  about  the  Richardson  Lakes,  Magalloway 
River,  and  Dixville  Notch. 

We  entered  the  Androscoggin  River  near  a  place 
called  "  Moll's  Rock."  The  stream  is  narrow  and 
crooked,  and  a  little  way  down  we  passed  a  place  on 
the  left  or  port  side,  known  as  "  Moll's  Carry." 
When  the  steamer  is  going  from  Errol  or  Magallo- 
way direct  to  Upton,  she  can,  during  the  high  water 
in  the  spring,  cross  this  carry,  which  is  then  flooded, 
and  save  quite  a  distance. 

Two  miles  below  the  lake  we  passed  the  mouth  of 
the  Magalloway,  one  of  the  feeders  of  the  Andros- 
coggin. It  empties  into  the  river  on  the  right  hand, 
going  towards  Errol. 

We  found  Captain  A.  W.  Fickett,  who  commanded 


MAGALLOWAY   RIVER.  191 

the  steamer,  a  very  pleasant  fellow,  while  the  engi- 
neer, Chris.  Curley,  whose  broad  brogue  betokened 
his  Irish  paternity,  was  a  regular  genius,  with  a 
faculty  for  spinning  tough  yarns.  These  two  men 
comprised  both  crew  and  officers  of  the  steamer,  and 
they  filled  their  situations  admirably. 

We  reached  the  Errol  Dam  about  ten  o'clock,  and 
found  a  number  of  passengers  in  waiting,  most  of 
whom  were  New  York  people,  who  had  come  down 
from  Colebrook  by  stage  that  morning. 

The  steamer  stopped  here  about  half  an  hour,  and 
we  took  advantage  of  this  to  run  on  shore  and  exam- 
ine the  Pam,  and  take  a  look  at  the  Errol  Hotel, 
where  sportsmen  stop  who  visit  this  vicinity.  This 
house  has  since  been  destroyed  by  fire,  and  a  new 
building  erected  on  the  old  site.  The  new  house  is 
private,  a  hotel  having  been  opened  at  the  bridge,  a 
mile  below  the  Dam. 

We  left  Errol  at  half-past  ten,  having  with  us, 
among  the  passengers,  Lewis  T.  Brown,  Esq.,  the 
agent  of  the  Berlin  Mills  Company,  whom  we  found 
a  genial  companion,  and  who  gave  us  a  great  deal 
of  information  about  the  surrounding  country. 

Retracing  our  course  for  two  miles,  we  entered 
the  Magalloway  River,  which  has  the  name  of  being 
the  most  crooked  river  in  New  England,  up  which 
serpentine  stream  the  boat  steamed  for  eight  miles, 


192  CAMP   LIFE   IN   THE  WILDERNESS. 

tying  up  at  a  place  known  as  "  Wentworth's  Lo- 
cation." 

A  mile  and  a  half  above  the  steamer-landing  the 
Berlin  Mills  Company  have  a  pleasant  hotel,  where 
sportsmen  and  tourists  visiting  the  Magalioway 
usually  stop.  The  house  is  well  kept,  and  the 
terms  are  moderate.  The  Swift  Diamond  enters 
the  Magalioway  near  the  hotel,  and  there  is  excel- 
lent trout-fishing,  in  the  proper  season,  but  a  short 
distance  from  the  house.  A  free  carriage  is  run 
between  the  boat  and  the  hotel  for  the  accommo- 
dation of  the  guests. 

The  sail  upon  the  Androscoggin  and  Magalioway 
rivers  is  charming.  The  streams  are  similar  in 
appearance,  being  narrow  and  crooked  —  the  lat- 
ter the  most  so;  their  width  ranges  from  twenty 
to  fifty  yards.  They  flow  sinuously  along,  turning 
now  to  the  right  and  then  to  the  left,  with  a  strong 
current,  not  perceptible,  however,  from  the  steamer. 
The  banks  are  lined  with  a  heavy  growth  of  timber 
in  some  places,  while  in  others  the  land  on  either 
shore  is  rich  intervale,  that  produces  large  crops 
with  little  culture. 

Occasionally  we  would  pass  a  spot  where  the 
trees  on  each  bank  of  the  river  would  droop  over 
the  water,  and  there  was  scarcely  room  for  the 
Bteamer  to  pass  between  them,  and  one  could  reach 


ROMANTIC  SCENERY.  193 

out  on  either  side  and  touch  the  straggling  branches. 
Many  of  the  trees  are  covered  with  long,  trailing 
moss,  giving  them  a  decidedly  picturesque  appear- 
ance. 

When  the  surface  of  the  river  is  unruffled  by  the 
wind,  the  water  forms  a  natural  mirror,  in  which  the 
underbrush  and  trees  that  grow  upon  its  banks  are 
faithfully  reproduced,  and  even  the  most  delicate 
shades  of  color  appear  with  a  clearness  that  is  sur- 
prising to  behold. 

Sailing  on  these  rivers  is  very  like  driving  through 
woods,  only  you  substitute  a  steamer  for  a  wagon, 
and  water  for  land ;  and  the  sound  of  the  steam- 
whistle  seems  out  of  place,  and  startles  one  from 
the  romantic  dreams  in  which  he  naturally  indulges. 

The  boat  glides  along,  at  times  nothing  to  be  seen 
but  the  wooded  banks,  the  mirrored  water  under 
you,  and  the  blue  sky  above ;  then  the  landscape 
will  change.  The  river-banks  will  become  lower, 
there  will  be  a  clearing  in  the  forest,  —  a  break 
in  the  dense  mass  of  foliage,  —  and  far  away 
against  the  sky  will  appear  the  sharp  outline  of 
the  mountains,  peak  after  peak  coming  into  view, 
and  continuing  until  lost,  perhaps,  in  a  bank  of 
fleecy  clouds. 

Some  idea  of  the  crookedness  of  the  Magalloway 
River  may  be  gained,  when  one  finds  that  he  sails 
13 


194  CAMP  LIFE  IN  THE   WILDERNESS. 

six  miles,  though  the  distance  between  the  same 
points  on  shore,  by  road,  is  only  one. 

The  steamer  stopped  at  the  Magalloway  land- 
ing two  hours,  giving  us  time  to  get  a  lunch  at 
a  farm-house  near  by,  and  take  a  look  at  the  coun- 
try. We  ascended  a  high  hill  a  short  distance  above 
the  landing,  and  obtained  a  beautiful  view  down 
the  valley  of  the  Magalloway.  Turning  northward, 
Mount  Dustan,  the  grotesque-looking  Diamond  Peaks, 
and  further  away  the  ragged  summits  of  Dixville 
Notch,  appear  to  our  gaze,  forming  as  romantic  a 
picture  of  mountain  scenery  as  one  would  wish  to 
look  upon. 

At  two  o'clock  we  started  on  the  return  trip,  by 
the  way  of  Errol  Dam,  thence  back  up  the  Andros- 
coggin, and  across  the  lake  to  the  "Inlet,''  where  we 
left  the  steamer,  bade  Captain  Fickett  and  Chris, 
good-bye,  and  embarked  in  an  old  wherry  that  Mr. 
Tenney  had  left  for  us.  It  was  a  crazy  old  craft, 
and  we  anathematized  him  heartily  for  leaving  us 
such  a  boat.  It  was  crank  as  a  tub,  leaky,  the 
thole-pins  nearly  all  broken,  and  there  were  five 
old  oars,  no  two  being  mates. 

As  we  settled  down  on  the  thwarts  of  the  old 
dory  and  looked  her  over,  after  the  steamer  had 
left  us,  I  began  to  think  that  Jim  had  given  us 
the   use  of  that  boat  "  with    malice   aforethought," 


PULLING   HARD   AGAINST   THE  STREAM.  195 

and  meant  for  us  to  get  a  ducking  before  reaching 
the  "Stump.'' 

I  had  volunteered  to  row,  as  being  the  better  oars- 
man of  the  two,  and  took  a  seat  just  forward  of  the 
centre  of  the  boat,  while  the  Sportsman  sat  in  the 
stern  with  a  paddle,  to  do  the  steering.  I  looked 
the  oars  over,  picked  out  the  two  that  were  nearest 
alike,  and  then  settled  down  to  my  work. 

I  soon  found  it  would  be  anything  but  fun,  pulling 
against  such  a  current  as  there  was  in  the  river  at 
that  time.  The  day  had  been  very  warm,  and  the 
air  had  not  cooled  off  any.  By  the  time  I  had  pulled 
a  few  rods,  I  began  to  think  it  was  hot.  I  took  off 
my  coat  and  vest,  dropped  my  suspenders  off  my 
shoulders,  and  laid  back  on  the  oars  as  if  I  meant 
business,  while  the  perspiration  rolled  down  my  face 
in  streams. 

In  the  morning  I  had  thought  it  a  trifling  matter 
to  pull  doavn  the  river  a  mile  and  a  half;  but  in  the 
evening  I  thought  the  distance  had  lengthened  out 
fearfully,  as  I  struggled  to  make  headway  against 
the  swift  current  of  the  stream. 

About  half-way  between  the  "  Inlet "  and  "  Cedar 
Stump''  a  bridge  formerly  crossed  the  river,  but  has 
now  disappeared,  with  the  exception  of  the  piers, 
one  on  each  side  of  the  stream.  The  river,  at  the 
point  where  the  bridge  stood,  is  very  narrow,  and 


196  CAMP   LIFE   IN   THE   WILDERNESS. 

between  these  two  piers  the  current  runs  like  a  mill- 
eluice.  As  I  began  to  near  this  place,  I  noticed  that 
my  headway  gradually  lessened,  although  I  was  pull- 
ing  a  stronger  stroke  than  at  any  time  since  start- 
ing; and  as  I  reached  the  piers,  the  boat  became 
almost  stationary. 

On  the  left-hand  side  of  the  river,  between  the 
pier  and  the  shore,  a  line  had  been  stretched,  to 
enable  those  who  wished  to  pull  up  by  it,  and  thus 
save  rowing,  until  they  were  above  the  strongest 
part  of  the  current.  But  as  none  of  the  guides  used 
it,  it  reminded  me  of  the  "lubber-holes"  on  a  vessel's 
mast ;  and  as  I  do  not  use  the  lubber's-hole  in  going 
aloft  on  a  vessel,  I  did  not  intend  to  use  the  lubber's 
rope  in  going  up  the  river.  If  the  guides  could  pull 
up  the  middle  of  the  stream,  I  would,  or  die  in  the 
attempt. 

Looking  up  just  at  this  moment  I  caught  the 
Sportsman's  eye,  and  he  began  to  grin.  The  scamp 
was  having  an  easy  time  of  it,  and  evidently  enjoyed 
the  situation. 

"If  you  are  going  to  get  above  those  piers  to- 
night. Scribbler,  you  will  have  to  lay  out  a  little 
more  muscle.     You  are  not  gaining  an  inch  now." 

I  watched  the  trees  on  the  banks.  He  had  spoken 
the  truth.  The  boat  was  at  a  stand-still.  With  a 
grunt  of  dissatisfaction,  that  brought  another  laugh 


PtJLLING   HARD   AGAINST  THE  STREAM.  197 

from  the  Sportsman,  I  nerved  myself  for  a  final 
effort,  and  lay  back  to  the  oars  again.  Anxiously 
I  watched  the  result. 

"Pull,  you  sardine  !  pull  I  "  shouted  Sportsman  by 
way  of  encouragement,  and  he  paddled  with  all  his 
strength. 

Slowly  the  boat  began  to  move  ;  inch  by  inch  I 
fought  the  current  and  drove  ahead,  pulling  short 
quick  strokes ;  but  it  was  using  up  my  wind  fear- 
fully, and  I  began  to  think  we  should  hang  between 
the  piers. 

However,  I  struggled  manfully  with  the  oars, 
pulling  until  the  strain  on  my  muscles  seemed  un- 
bearable. At  last  we  passed  through  the  narrow 
channel  and  were  above  the  piers.  The  worst  was 
over. 

"  Hold  out  for  five  minutes  longer.  Scribbler,  and 
we  shall  be  all  right ;  the  current  is  not  so  strong 
a  little  way^ahead." 

Slowly  we  moved  away  from  the  piers,  and  I  had 
just  pulled  beyond  the  strongest  part  of  the  current, 
when  one  of  the  thole-pins  broke,  and  I  went  back- 
wards into  the  bottom  of  the  boat,  my  heels  kicking 
in  the  air,  and  my  oars  dragging  in  the  water. 

"  Devil  take  the  thole-pin  I "  1  exclaimed,  as  I 
regained  my  seat,  and  heard  the  Sportsman's  roar 
of  laughter. 


198  CAMP   LIFE   IN   THE   WILDERNESS. 

"  Row  with  your  port  oar,  and  I  will  paddle  on 
the  starboard  side,"  said  he  ;  "  we  will  work  .her 
over  to  that  cedar,  and  hold  on  until  we  make  a  new 
thole-pin.  Quick  I  or  we  shall  go  through  the 
bridge." 

By  sharp  work  we  paddled  to  the  shore,  and 
caught  at  a  tree,  but  we  were  carried  nearly  down 
to  the  piers  before  we  could  stop. 

After  taking  a  rest  and  making  a  new  thole-pin,  I 
tried  it  again,  keeping  close  to  the  shore,  where  the 
current  was  not  quite  so  strong,  and  we  finally 
reached  the  landing  at  the  foot  of  the  rapids,  where 
we  were  to  leave  the  boat.  We  hauled  the  old 
dory  up  on  shore,  and  then  sat  down  to  rest  a  few 
moments,  for  1  was  rather  tired. 

"  Hot  work,"  sard  Sportsman,  as  we  stepped  on 
shore. 

*'  Yes  it  was.  I  thought  sure  we  should  be  carried 
below  the  piers  when  that  thole-pin  broke." 

"  Well,  I  could  not  have  kept  from  laughing  if  we 
had.  You  looked  so  comical,  with  your  heels  up  in 
the  air,  and  your  head  shoved  down  in  the  bow  of 
the  boat;  and  then  your  look  of  disgust,  as  you 
righted  yourself  and  took  in  the  situation.  By  gra- 
cious, it  was  rich  1  "  and  he  laughed  again  at  the 
thought  of  it. 

'*  It  is  well  enough  for  you  to  laiigh  now,  my  boy ; 


BACK   TO   CAMP   AGAIN.  199 

but  if  we  had  gone  through  the  piers,  I  wouldn't 
have  pulled  up  again  to-night.  I  should  have 
camped  where  we  were,  and  started  fresh  in  the 
morning." 

"  No  matter,  it  is  all  over  now,  so  let's  push  on  to 
camp.     I  am  getting  hungry  again." 

"  Your  natural  state,"  I  added. 

''  Hope  the  Guide  will  have  a  johnny-cake  for 
supper,"  he  remarked,  as  we  started  off  on  our  walk 
at  a  swinging  pace,  for  it  was  about  six.  o'clock. 

We  tramped  steadily  along,  and  it  was  half-past 
seven  when  we  reached  camp.  We  found  the  Guide 
had  supper  all  ready,  —  an  excellent  repast  it  was, 
too,  — and  being  hungry  as  bears,  we  did  it  ample 
justice.     Even  the  johnny-cake  was  not  wanting. 

After  supper  the  rest  of  the  party  joined  us,  and 
we  compared  notes.  They  had  been  fishing  all 
day  at  various  places.  Some  had  tried  the  Dam, 
some  the  Pend  in  the  River,  others  Smooth  Ledge 
and  the  Hop  Yard.  All  had  met  with  good  luck, 
and  were  well  satisfied. 

As  there  were  some  very  pretty  places  in  the 
vicinity  of  Andover  that  we  wished  to  see,  we 
decided  to  go  out  from  the  lakes  the  next  day. 


200  CAMP  LIFE  IN   THE  WILDERNESS. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

A  SELL  ON  THE  ARTIST.  —  A  WOODEN  BEAR.  —  BACK 
TO  THE  ARM.  —  A  REUNION  AT  SMITH'S  MILL. — 
AT  THE  ANDOVER  HOUSE  ONCE  MORE. 

IN  the  morning  every  one  was  up  bright  and 
early.  The  tent  was  taken  down,  the  baggage 
packed  up,  the  boats  loaded,  and  everything  was 
ready  for  a  start,  as  soon  as  the  gentlemen  who  had 
stopped  at  the  Middle  Dam  Camp  had  settled  their 
bills. 

The  board-bill  for  those  who  had  stopped  at  the 
camp  was  at  the  rate  of  two  dollars  per  day,  and 
the  Governor  took  this  opportunity  of  putting  up 
a  job  on  the  Artist. 

The  first  night  we  reached  the  Middle  Dam, 
the  Pathfinder  had  slept  with  the  Artist  in  the 
camp,  and  the  Governor,  who  had  arranged  the 
whole  business  beforehand  with  Mr.  Tenney,  told 
the  Artist  that  he  would  have  to  pay  the  Path- 
finder's  board  for  the  whole  time  we  were  there, 


A   SELL   ON  THE   ARTIST.  201 

and  also  informed  the  Farmer,  who  had  lodged  in 
the  camp;  that  he  would  have  to  pay  full  price,  the 
same  as  if  he  had  eaten  liis  meals  there.  Both  the 
Artist  and  the  Farmer  thought  that  such  a  settle- 
ment would  be  a  fraud,  and  were  not  slow  in  saying 
so.  The  Artist  was  particularly  vexed  about  it,  and 
declared  it  was  an  outrage  to  charge  a  man  for 
board  two  days  and  a  half  because  he  had  slept  in 
a  room  one  night.  He  went  to  the  Governor,  and 
told  him  that  he  did  not  mean  to  pay  it;  but  that 
joker  told  him  he  would  have  to,  and  he  could  not 
see  why  the  charge  was  not  all  square. 

After  that  the  Farmer  and  the  Artist  had  a  buzz 
together,  and  made  up  their  minds  that  the  charge 
was  a  swindle  and  that  they  would  not  pay  it  under 
any  circumstances.  The  rest  of  us,  who  were  in 
the  secret,  could  scarcely  keep  from  laughing  in 
their  faces,  to  hear  them  blow  about  it. 

Finally,  -after  a  good  deal  of  talk,  during  which 
the  Artist  said  he  had  never  heard  of  such  a  thing, 
and  that  it  was  without  precedent,  &c.,  Mr.  Tenney 
told  him  that  he  guessed  he  would  not  charge  him 
for  the  Pathfinder's  board,  and  would  only  have  the 
Farmer  pay  his  lodgings. 

Then  we  began  to  laugh,  —  we  could  keep  still 
no  longer,  —  and  it  began  to  dawn  on  the  Artist 
that   he   and  the  Farmer  had    been  sold,  and  that 


202  CAMP  LIFE  IN    THE  WILDERNESS. 

Tenney  was  not  such  a  bad  fellow  as  they  thought 
him. 

After  the  bills  were  settled,  the  Artist  procured  a 
shingle,  on  which  he  pencilled  all  our  names  and  the 
date  of  the  excursion,  and  nailed  it  up  in  the  An- 
gler's Retreat,  with  numerous  other  bulletins  of  a 
like  nature.  Then  we  went  down  to  our  boats.  The 
Guide  had  his  dishes  and  cooking-utensils  to  return 
to  French's  Camp,  where  we  had  stopped  on  our 
first  night  up  the  lakes,  so  he  took  the  "  Rolling 
Moses,'^  the  Pathfinder  going  with  him,  and  left  us 
to  make  our  way  down  to  the  Arm  alone.  He  ex- 
pected to  reach  the  Arm  about  an  hour  behind  us. 

We  had  a  lovely  morning  for  our  return.  Indeed, 
every  day  had  been  pleasant  since  we  left  Boston. 
There  was  scarcely  a  breath  of  air,  the  lake  being 
perfectly  calm ;  and  the  boat  went  dashing  through 
the  water,  propelled  by  the  vigorous  strokes  of  four 
sturdy  rowers. 

On  our  way  down,  Mozart  told  us  about  their 
chasing  a  bear  the  day  we  came  down  from  the 
Upper  Dam,  which  was  a  good  joke  on  the  Guide. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  the  Governor,  the 
Guide,  and  Mozart  came  directly  to  the  Middle  Dam 
in  the  large  boat,  while  the  rest  of  us,  in  the  small 
boat,  stopped  at  Mosquito  Brook  and  Metalic  Point. 
When  they  were  nearly  through  the  Narrows  they 


A  WOODEN   BEAR.  203 

saw  what  they  supposed  to  be  a  bear,  swimming 
across  the  lake  towards  the  east  shore,  a  little  way 
below  Portland  Point.  Instantly  all  was  excitement. 
The  Guide  charged  one  of  the  guns  with  buckshot, 
and  laid  it  where  he  could  catch  it  up  easily,  and 
then  gave  his  orders.  The  Governor  was  to  place 
himself  in  the  bow  of  the  boat,  with  the  axe,  to 
strike  the  bear  after  the  Guide  fired ;  and  Mozart 
was  to  stand  by  to  grab  it,  so  that  it  should  not  sink 
if  they  killed  it.  Then  the  Guide  laid  the  course 
of  the  boat  directly  for  the  bear,  and  pulled  with 
might  and  main.  They  arrived  within  gunshot  dis- 
tance of  it,  and  could  see  its  black  head  bobbing  up 
and  down  in  the  water  as  it  swam  for  the  shore. 

"  Let  him  have  it ! ''  cried  the  Governor. 

The  Guide  blazed  away,  but  the  bear  did  not 
take  any  notice  of  the  shot,  and  he  took  to  the  oars 
again ;  and  in  a  moment  more  they  were  alongside 
of  the  bear,  and  the  Governor  brought  down  the  axe 
with  a  savage  stroke,  and  it  cut  —  not  into  a  bear's 
head,  but  —  a  log!  The  bear  proved  to  be  an  old 
log  which,  blackened  with  fire,  and  water-soaked 
from  long  immersion  in  the  lake,  was  floating  around, 
end  up,  and  was  what  boys  who  live  near  salt-water 
rivers  would  call  a  "  tide-walker." 

After  freeing  tlie  axe,  the  bear-hunters  put  for  the 
Middle  Dam,  feeling  that  they  had  been  worsted. 


204  CAMP  LIFE   IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

When  we  joked  the  Guide  about  it,  he  remarked 
that  the  smartest  people  were  liable  to  be  mistaken 
sometimes,  —  a  fact  which  we  could  not  deny. 

We  reached  the  Arm  about  eleven  o'clock,  and  in 
little  more  than  an  hour  the  Guide  arrived. 

Now,  instead  of  persons  having  to  row  to  the  Mid- 
dle or  Upper  Dams,  they  can  take  the  jaunty  little 
steamer  that  plies  upon  the  Eichardson  Lakes  dur- 
ing the  summer  season,  and  go  from  the  Arm  to  the 
Upper  Dam  in  an  hour  and  a  half  or  two  hours,  with- 
out any  exertion. 

While  waiting  for  the  team  from  Andover  we  had 
lunch,  and  Thomas  arrived  just  as  we  had  finished 
eating.  We  were  glad  to  see  him,  and  asked  him 
about  the  people  at  the  hotel.  He  informed  us  that 
some  of  the  ladies  were  going  to  ride  out  as  far  as 
the  DeviPs  Den  that  afternoon  to  meet  us,  and  would 
get  there  about  three  o'clock. 

The  Artist  was  particularly  anxious  in  his  inquiries 
about  Miss  Black,  which  set  us  all  into  a  gale  of 
laughter,  a  freak  on  our  part  that  he  did  not  seem 
to  comprehend. 

While  the  horses  were  feeding,  the  teams  were 
loaded,  and  we  were  soon  on  our  way  to  Andover. 
We  reached  the  Devil's  Den  just  as  the  other  team 
arrived  —  a  happy  coincidence ;  and  we  were  very 
glad  to  see  the  ladies. 


AT  THE  ANDOVER  HOUSE  ONCE  MORE.     205 

They  declared  we  all  looked  like  savages,  and 
gave  us  the  compliment  of  being  the  roughest-look- 
ing set  of  men  they  had  ever  seen.  We  retaliated 
by  telling  them  that  when  we  had  reached  the  hotel, 
donned  our  '^  store-clothes,"  and  completed  our  toi- 
lets, we  should  not  know  them. 

We  whiled  away  a  couple  of  hours  showing  the 
ladies  the  Devil's  Den,  Hermit  Falls,  and  Silver-rip- 
ple Cascade,  and  then,  turning  from  this  romantic 
locality,  took  seats  on  the  buckboards,  and  drove  to 
the  hotel. 

It  was  with  feelings  of  real  satisfaction  that  we 
came  in  sight  of  the  hotel  once  more ;  and  after 
reaching  it,  the  first  thing  we  did  was  to  have  a  good 
wash,  shave,  change  our  clothes,  and  make  ourselves 
presentable  for  supper,  which  meal,  it  is  needless  to 
say,  we  highly  enjoyed,  having  the  privilege  once 
more  to  sit  down  to  a  well-set  table,  and  enjoy  the 
society  of  ladies. 

Just  before  tea  we  all  gathered  in  the  parlor,  and 
the  Artist  was  informed  who  the  young  lad3'-  was 
that  he  had  been  so  devoted  to.  Several  persons 
were  called  in  to  testify  to  the  truth  in  the  matter, 
and  the  Artist  considered  that  he  bad  been  "  taken 
in  and  done  for."  But  he  stood  it  like  a  man,  and 
told  us  we  could  count  on  an  oyster  supper  when  we 


206  CAMP   LIFE   IN   THE   WILDERNESS. 

all  reached  Boston,  to  make  that  joke  square  —  a 
promise  which  he  handsomely  fulfilled. 

The  ladies  were  delighted  with  the  denouement, 
and  he  had  to  stand  considerable  banter  from  them 
while  he  remained  at  the  hotel ;  but  he  took  it  all  in 
the  best-natured  manner  possible. 

After  supper  we  played  croquet  a  while,  and 
finished  out  the  evening  with  vocal  and  instrumental 
music. 

To  sleep  under  a  roof  once  more,  and  enjoy  a 
comfortable  bed,  was  a  luxury  we  all  could  appre- 
ciate, in  spite  of  our  penchant  for  camping  out;  and, 
free  from  midges  and  black  flies,  we  enjoyed  a  good 
night's  rest. 


THE   FIRST   DEPARTURE.  209 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

THE   FIRST  DEPARTURE.  —  AN   EXCURSION   TO   CATARACT 
BROOK.  —  A   QUIET   SUNDAY. 

rpHE  next  morning,  Saturday,  we  were  all  up 
X  early,  as  two  of  our  number  —  the  Farmer  and 
the  Professor  —  were  going  to  leave  us.  The  first- 
named  was  going  to  another  part  of  Maine  to  visit 
some  relatives,  the  latter  direct  to  Boston.  The 
Farmer's  journey  was  without  special  interest,  but 
we  have  a  ludicrous  circumstance  to  relate  that 
happened  to  the  Professor  after  reaching  the. Hub. 

At  a  great  deal  of  trouble  and  inconvenience  he 
had  succeeded  in  bringing  some  nice  fish  from  the 
lakes,  packed  in  moss,  which  he  was  very  anxious  to 
get  home  with  all  right.  They  were  very  handsome 
trout,  and  he  chuckled  over  the  surprise  and  aston- 
ishment that  would  greet  him  at  home  when  he  ar- 
rived there  and  exhibited  the  speckled  beauties  to 
his  friends. 

14 


210  CAMP  LIFE   IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

For  a  wonder,  he  did  not  forget  the  box,  but  took 
it  with  him,  (he  had  forgotten  to  pay  his  hotel  bill 
when  he  left  Andover  in  the  morning,  and  sent  the 
money  back  at  night  by  the  stage-driver,  which 
piece  of  absent-mindedness  cost  the  Professor  the 
oysters  for  the  party  when  we  all  reached  Boston,) 
and  when  he  stepped  oflp  the  steamer  in  Boston 
Sunday  morning,  he  tied  it  up  in  his  handkerchief, 
and  started  up  town  with  it  under  his  arm.  He 
reached  Tremont  Street,  intending  to  take  a  horse- 
car;  but  not  seeing  the  right  one,  he  started  to 
walk  to  his  house.  Every  policeman  he  met  eyed 
him  suspiciously,  and  all  pedestrians  curiously ; 
and  when  he  had  walked  about  half  a  mile  he  be- 
came alive  to  the  fact  that  he  was  being  followed 
by  a  tremendous  pack  of  dogs,  who,  with  noses  in 
the  air,  were  sniflSng  after  that  box.  There  were 
large  dogs  and  small  dogs,  male  dogs  and  female 
dogs,  the  mean-spirited  cur  and  the  noble  New- 
foundland dog,  all,  without  regard  to  age,  sex,  color, 
or  condition,  were  yelling  and  barking  eagerly  at  his 
heels. 

He  thought  this  was  strange,  and  wondered  if  all 
the  dogs  in  the  city  had  run  mad  ;  but  as  he  racked 
his  brain  for  the  reason  for  such  a  singular  proceed- 
ing on  the  part  of  the  animals,  it  began  to  dawn 
upon  him  that  there  was  a  loud  smell  of  tainted  fish 


AN  EXCURSION  TO  CATARACT  BROOK.     211 

polluting  the  balmy  atmosphere  of  that  lovely  Sab- 
bath morning,  and  that  it  must  come  from  the  box 
which  he  carried  so  carefully  under  his  arm,  wrapped 
in  a  pocket-handkerchief. 

"Horrors!  Have  the  fish  spoiled  after  all?  "he 
mentally  asked  himself. 

The  very  thought  caused  the  blood  to  rush  to  his 
face  and  his  hair  to  turn  gray.  In  "a  spirit  of  des- 
peration he  halted  as  suddenly  as  did  Lot's  wife 
when  she  became  a  pillar  of  salt.  Slowly  and  fear- 
fully he  brought  the  box  up  in  front  of  his  nasal 
organ,  and  took  a  sniff.  One  was  enough  !  Off 
came  the  handkerchief,  and  over  into  a  vacant 
lot  went  the  much-prized  trout,  and,  with  a  cry 
of  despair  and  rage  that  was  heard  distinctly  at 
Hull,  he  travelled  south  at  a  rate  that  made  his 
coat-tails  stand  ou.t  in  a  perfectly  straight  line  be- 
hind him. 

We  are  happy  to  state  that,  in  spite  of  this  unfor- 
tunate incident,  he  reached  home  in  safety. 

After  we  had  bidden  our  two  friends  adieu,  and 
the  stage  had  departed,  the  question  came  up  as  to 
where  we  should  spend  the  day,  and  the  landlord 
proposed  a  drive  to  the  "  Cataracts,"  a  series  of  ro- 
mantic falls  and  cascades  a  few  miles  from  the  hotel. 

The  ladies,  who  had  been  there  with  Mr.  Thomas 
while  we  were  up  to  the  lakes,  were  enthusiastic  over 


212  CAMP    LIFE   IN   THE   WILDERNESS. 

the  beauties  of  the  place,  and  we  concluded  we  must 
visit  such  a  charming  locality. 

Accordingly  a  couple  of  teams  —  buckboards  — 
were  driven  to  the  front  of  the  house,  and  we  stored 
ourselves  away  on  them.  On  our  way  we  called  for 
the  Guide,  who  lived  a  short  distance  from  the  hotel, 
and  he  accompanied  us. 

The  drive  to  'the  ''  Cataracts  "  is  one  of  the  most 
pleasant  in  the  vicinity  of  Andover,  and  cannot 
but  be  appreciated  by  any  one  having  the  slightest 
love  for  nature.  After  driving  about  four  miles 
from  the  village,  you  turn  off  from  the  road  on  the 
left-hand  side,  and  enter  a  field,  which  is  mostly 
overgrown  with  bushes.  Leaving  your  team  here 
in  the  shade  of  some  tree,  you  proceed  the  rest  of 
the  way  on  foot. 

The  path  leads  up  the  side  of  a  mountain,  through 
bushes  and  trees,  among  which  the  sun  struggles 
to  find  an  entrance.  Up  this  shady  mountain- 
path  you  climb  slowly,  lured  on  by  the  musical 
murmur  of  the  silver  stream  as  it  calls  to  you 
from  its  rocky  bed. 

Anon  you  turn  from  the  path,  and,  standing  by 
the  side  of  some  deep  gorge,  look  down  with  feel- 
ings of  mingled  awe  and  delight,  to  behold  the 
waters  of  this  joyous  mountain-river  dancing  in  the 
sunlight,  as,  gathered  upon  the  top  of  some  precipi- 


214  CAMP  LIFE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

tous  rock,  they  hesitate  a  moment  ere  they  make  the 
mad  plunge  down,  down,  into  some  frightful  abyss. 

This  is  certainly  the  prettiest  series  of  cascades 
and  falls  I  have  ever  visited,  and  in  bold  and  strik- 
ing approaches  and  beautiful  surroundings  they  are 
superior  to  many  among  the  White  Mountains. 

Some  of  these  "  cataracts  "  have  a  large  volume 
of  water,  which  pours  over  huge  precipices,  whose 
seamed  and  scarred  walls  tell  of  a  terrible  war  with 
the  elements,  and  give  the  impression  that  sooner  or 
later  they  will  give  up  the  struggle,  and  fall  a  broken 
and  shapeless  mass  into  the  bed  of  the  torrent  below. 

The  stream  on  which  this  beautiful  series  of  falls 
is  situated  takes  its  rise  in  the  mountains,  under 
the  shadow  of  ^<  Old  Bald  Pate,"  and  after  flowing 
some  twelve  or  fifteen  miles  among  mountains  and 
valleys,  loses  itself  in  the  Ellis  River. 

There  are  cosy  nooks  along  the  banks  of  this  pic- 
turesque rivulet  where  a  poetic  dreamer  might  re- 
cline on  a  bank  of  velvety  moss,  and  lose  all  realities 
of  existence  in  blissful  meditation,  and  from  which  an 
artist  gazing  forth  would  turn  pale  with  envy  to  think 
that  here  nature  had  brought  into  life  scenes  that 
were  beyond  his  power  to  transfer  to  canvas. 

To  a  good  walker,  fond  of  mountain  sceneiy,  who 
would  be  willing  to  follow  up  the  stream  from  where 
it  crosses  the  carriage-road,  and  either  wade  in  its 


AN  EXCURSION  TO  CATARACT  BROOK.     215 

bed,  or  clamber  along  its  rocky  sides,  would  appear 
a  varied  view,  whose  scenes  would  live  in  the 
deepest  recesses  of  his  brain,  and  would  furnish  a 
never-failing  source  of  pleasure,  when,  far  from  the 
place,  he  could  throw  on  memory's  mirror  the  photo- 
graphic impressions  of  the  mind. 

As  we  had  taken  lunch  with  us,  we  were  in  no 
hurry  to  return,  and  loitered  on  the  way  home, 
enjoying  each  moment  to  its  uttermost ;  and  when 
we  drove  up  to  the  hotel  it  was  five  o'clock,  and  we 
were  as  hungry  as  bears. 

We  had  an  hour  or  more  to  rest,  and  remove  the 
dust  from  our  clothing,  then  we  sat  down  to  a  good 
supper,  which  we  all  enjoyed.  After  supper,  cigars, 
croquet,  and  music  until  ten  o'clock,  and  then  we 
retired  to  rest,  all  tired  enough  to  sleep. 

Sunday  was  passed  rather  quietly,  all  of  us  putting 
in  an  appearance  at  one  or  the  other  of  the  churches, 
either  in4he  forenoon  or  the  afternoon. 

In  the  evening  we  took  a  walk,  but  came  home 
early  and  had  some  sacred  music,  which  all  of  us 
enjoyed. 

But  we  could  not  but  help  feeling  a  little  sad  that 
night,  as  we  thought  that  our  pleasant  excursion  was 
so  near  an  end,  and  that  our  ranks  would  be  still 
further  depleted  on  the  morrow,  as  three  more  of  the 
gentlemen  intended  leaving  in  the  morning. 


216  CAMP  LIFE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

MORE  DEPARTURES.  —  ROXBURY  POND.  —  CAUGHT  IN 
THE  RAIN.  —  LAST  DAY  AT  ANDOVER.  —  FAREWELL. — 
GENERAL  INFORMATION.  —  HINTS  TO  EXCURSIONISTS. 
AU   REVOIR. 

ON  Monday  morning,  Mozart,  Sportsman,  and  the 
Artist  ate  their  last  meal  at  the  Andover  House, 
and  after  breakfast  said  their  farewells  to  the  rem- 
nant of  the  party,  and  then  climbed  to  the  top  of 
the  stage,  giving  us  a  parting  salute  as  the  vehicle 
rolled  away. 

After  they  had  gone,  we  concluded  to  make  an  ex- 
cursion to  Roxbury  Pond,  a  beautiful  sheet  of  water, 
about  a  mile  and  a  half  long,  by  a  mile  or  so  wide. 
The  pond,  about  four  miles  distant  from  the  hotel, 
is  noted  for  its  pickerel,  and  we  took  our  tackle  with 
us,  in  hopes  that  we  might  bring  back  a  few  fish. 

The  drive  was  very  pleasant,  and  we  enjoyed  it 
exceedingly,  our  conveyance  as  usual  being  a  buck- 
board,  which  for  comfortable,  jolly  riding  cannot  be 
beat. 


The  Flume,  Cataract  Brook,  Andover,  Me. 


218  CAMP   LIFE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

On  our  way  to  the  pond  we  stopped  at  the  ruins 
of  an  old  mill,  which  spanned  a  stream,  at  the  top 
of  a  hill,  from  which  you  could  obtain  a  charming 
view  of  the  village  of  Andover. 

Around  the  site  of  this  old  mill,  raspberries  grew 
in  reckless  profusion,  some  of  them  as  large  as 
robbings  eggs,  and  we  picked  and  ate  until  we  were 
fairly  cloyed  with  the  delicious  fruit.  We  regretted 
that  we  had  not  taken  a  few  dishes  along  with  us, 
for  if  we  had,  we  might  have  carried  back  several 
quarts.  But  we  solaced  ourselves  for  our  negli- 
gence by  planning  a  berrying  excursion  for  the 
next  day. 

Before  reaching  the  pond,  the  sky  began  to  cloud 
up,  and  Thomas  prophesied  that  it  would  shortly 
rain.  And  he  was  not  far  out  of  the  way,  for  just 
after  we  reached  the  pond,  and  one  of  our  num- 
ber had  thrown  for  the  first  pickerel,  it  began  to 
sprinkle. 

At  first  the  drops  fell  gently,  as  if  they  did  not 
mean  to  wet  us  any  more  than  possible,  but  they 
soon  increased  in  speed  and  size,  and  came  down 
furiously. 

We  were  utterly  routed,  for  the  ladies  not  expect- 
ing such  a  drenching,  were  not  prepared  for  it. 

The  fishing-tackle  was  hastily  put  up  before  we 
had  caught  a  single  fish,  and  we  took  our  seats  on 


CAUGHT   IN  THE   RAIN.  219 

the  team,  the  horses  were  turned  towards  Andover, 
and  we  made  good  time  back  to  the  hotel,  where 
we  arrived  as  wet  as  drowned  rats. 

But  for  the  presence  of  the  ladies,  we  should  not 
have  succumbed  so  easily,  and  should  have  carried 
some  pickerel  back  with  us,  rain  or  no  rain. 

The  Pathfinder,  who  stopped  at  Andover  after  we 
had  all  left,  visited  this  same  pond  with  the  Guide 
and  caught  pickerel  weighing  from  one  to  four 
pounds. 

Arriving  at  the  hotel,  there  was  a-  grand  rush  to 
our  rooms,  and  a  scrabble  for  dry  clothing,  and 
when  we  came  down  to  dinner,  there  were  none  of 
the  party  who  felt  any  the  worse  for  their  shower- 
bath.  The  afternoon  and  evening  was  spent  in- 
doors, for  although  the  rain  held  up  at  intervals, 
it  was  too  moist  out  to  be  agreeable.  So  we  whiled 
away  the  time  with  checkers,  cards,  and  music,  and 
although  weather-bound,  enjoyed  ourselves  finely. 

On  arising  in  the  morning,  we  were  very  much 
disappointed  to  find  the  storm  still  raging,  with  but 
slight  prospects  of  a  clearance.  The  tops  of  the 
mountains  about  us  were  covered  with  heavy  clouds, 
and  it  was  evident  to  the  least  weather-wise  amonp: 
us  that  we  were  doomed  to  spend  the  best  part  of 
the  day  in  the  house. 

After  breakfast,  the   Governor  and  I,  under  the 


220  CAMP   LIFE  IN  THE   WILDERNESS. 

shelter  of  an  umbrella,  walked  over  to  where  the 
Guide  was  erecting  a  new  house,  and  took  a  look  at 
the  place.  It  was  an  eligible  location,  and  from  it  ono 
could  command  some  of  the  finest  views  in  the  village. 

The  Pathfinder,  being  a  gentleman  of  leisure,  had 
made  up  his  mind  to  stop  in  Andover  a  couple  of 
months  longer,  and  go  up  to  the  lakes  in  September 
with  the  Guide,  and  have  a  try  at  the  ''big  trout" 
that  are  taken  in  the  fall. 

During  the  forenoon,  for  want  of  something  better 
to  do,  1  took  a  three-quart  tin  pail  and  went  down 
by  the  Ellis  River,  and  in  spite  of  the  drizzling  rain 
managed  to  return  with  the  pail  full  of  raspberries. 

After  dinner  the  ladies  devoted  themselves  to 
"  packing,"  a  task  which  all  my  readers  are  familiar 
with,  and  which  it  is  said  that  ladies  delight  in. 
But  it  was  not  a  very  pleasant  duty  in  our  case, 
for  we  were  all  delighted  with  the  place,  and  the 
ladies  declared  they  would  spend  the  whole  summer 
there  another  year. 

During  the  afternoon  there  was  a  little  lull  in 
the  rain,  and  the  landlord  harnessed  up  a  pair  of 
horses,  and  he  and  I  went  out  for  a  buckboard  drive 
around  "  the  square,"  a  distance  of  about  five  miles. 

In  the  evening  we  had  a  call  from  some  people 
who  were  stopping  at  private  boarding-houses  near 
the  hotel,  and  had  a  pleasant  time. 


s     W^r^ 


222  CAMP  LIFE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

Wednesday  morning  we  had  to  be  up  early  and 
look  after  the  baggage,  and  be  sure  that  everything 
was  in  readiness.  After  idling  about  for  two  weeks, 
your  things  scattered  here  and  there,  you  are  very 
apt  to  forget  something,  unless  you  look  sharp. 

Our  worthy  host  had  served  up  an  excellent 
breakfast,  and  although  one  felt  sad  to  leave,  still 
our  grief  had  not  destroyed  our  appetites,  and  we 
did  ample  justice  to  the  last  meal. 

The  coach  came  to  the  door,  the  ladies  were 
assisted  to  inside  seats,  for  it  was  raining  slightly, 
the  gentlemen  followed,  our  adieus  were  spoken, 
and  the  stage  rolled  away. 

The  ride  home  was  somewhat  disagreeable,  it 
raining  all  the  way,  and  when  we  reached  Boston 
it  poured.  Taking  hacks,  we  reached  our  homes 
without  getting  wet,  but  tired  and  sleepy,  and  our 
"  Trip  to  Andover  and  the  Richardson  Lakes  "  be- 
came a  memory  of  the  past. 

Before  saying  adieu  to  my  readers,  I  will  add  a 
few  notes  for  their  beneflt. 

If  you  are  looking  for  a  healthy  and  beautiful  place 
to  spend  the  summer  in,  without  having  to  pay  an 
extravagant  price  for  living,  you  should  make  a  trial 
of  Andover  one  season.  It  has  hotels,  boarding- 
houses,  churclies,  stores,  daily  mail,  and  telegraph. 


HINTS  TO   EXCURSIONISTS.  223 

The  town  is  not  crowded  with  guests  in  summer, 
and  is  wholly  unfashionable  —  the  best  recommenda- 
tion it  could  have  in  the  minds  of  sensible  people, — 
yet  there  is  enough  of  society  to  prevent  any  from 
being  troubled  with  ennui,  as  many  of  the  best  families 
of  Portland,  Boston,  New  York,  and  Philadelphia 
have  found  the  place  out,  and  visit  it  each  summer. 

If  one  does  not  feel  capable  of  making  the  effort  to 
visit  the  lakes  after  arriving  in  Andover,  or  is  too 
lazy  to  care  to  do  it,  there  are  numerous  trout 
streams  in  the  vicinity,  well  stocked  with  brook- 
trout  that  will  weigh  from  half  a  pound  to  two  pounds 
each,  which  offer  to  those  piscatorially  inclined  an 
excellent  day's  sport,  without  having  to  take  a  long 
tramp.    Berries  of  all  kinds  are  plenty  in  their  season. 

The  heavy  growth  of  pine  in  and  about  the  town, 
and  the  remarkably  pure  air,  which  seems  to  contain 
wonderful  tonic  properties,  make  the  place  a  very 
desirable  summer  residence  for  those  in  feeble  health. 

Sportsmen  intending  to  visit  the  lakes  will  find 
the  trout  plentier  from  the  middle  of  May  to  the  1st 
of  July  than  in  September,  but  not  so  large.  The 
fall-fishing  runs  from  the  middle  of  August  to  the 
1st  of  October.  For  good  hunting,  go  iu  September 
and  October. 

Both  sportsmen  and  tourists  who  now  visit  the 
lakes  will  find  it  more  pleasant  to  board  at  the  hotels, 


224  CAMP   LIFE   IN   THE  WILDERNESS. 

where  there  are  excellent  accommodations  at  low 
prices,  than  to  ^^  camp  out.'' 

But  if  nothing  but  living  in  a  tent  will  suit  you, 
be  sure  and  take  a  guide  and  cook,  for  you  will  find 
that  living  in  the  woods  gives  you  a  rabid  appetite, 
and  you  will  feel  a  decided  disinclination,  when  in 
camp,  to  chop  wood,  lug  water,  cook,  and  wash  dishes, 
and  perform  sundry  other  little  duties  that  must  be. 
attended  to. 

Those  wishing  more  particular  information  about 
Andover,  and  the  Richardson  and  Rangeley  Lakes, 
will  find  all  they  need  in  a  volume  published 
by  Lee  &  Shepard,  Boston,  and  Chas.  T.  Dilling- 
ham, New  York,  entitled  '^  Richardson  and  Range- 
ley  Lakes.  Illustrated."  This  book  contains  a 
large  and  correct  map  of  the  whole  country,  and 
numerous  illustrations. 

And  now,  dear  readers,  Au  revoir. 

If  you  have  followed  us  with  any  feelings  of 
pleasure  or  interest  through  these  chapters,  my 
parting  words  of  advice  are :  If  you  have  never 
visited  Andover  and  the  Richardson  Lakes,  go  there 
on  the  first  opportunity,  and  our  word  for  it,  you 
will  not  regret  it. 


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LD21 — A-40m-8,'75  General  Library 

(S7737L)  University  of  California 

Berkeley 


lvi31G033 


